Redemption
by Jaslazul
Summary: Wolf always thought of romance as stupid, a pointless game for wastrels who couldn't find anything better to do. Now, it is interfering with what is his only chance at redemption. And what's worse: it's Fox. Fox/Wolf slash, coming-out–type story.
1. Prologue and Chapter One: Confrontation

Just touched this up a little bit, nothing major. Sorry if the quotation marks are retarded. They got reduced to the standard " marks, so I had to go enter the real things back in by hand.

* * *

**Prologue: Arrival**

"Mr. O'Donnell?"

The voice of his sole companion roused him from his sleep. He blinked a few times and wiped the sleep out of his good eye.

"Yeah?"

"We're here."

Wolf glanced out the window, trying to see exactly where "here" was, but he was mostly thwarted by the darkness. He could, however, barely make out an ornate, Gothic mansion, mainly because of the few scattered lanterns casting an eerie glow on it. It wasn't the biggest building he'd seen in his life, but it was pretty high on the list. Its owners had to be rich, considering they could operate such a huge building, hire a top-of-the-line jet to carry him—one person—a quarter of the way across the planet, and still be able to offer that ridiculous sum of prize money.

"Alright." He unstrapped his seat belt and stood, paused to stretch for a moment, then turned to go to the storage compartment. He got his bags—two large ones to carry, one in each hand, plus one to hang over his shoulder—and exited the jet, yawning.

"Need help with that?" the pilot asked.

"I'm fine," he said.

The pilot hesitated. "Then... I'll be going now, alright?"

"Go ahead."

Another hesitation. "Good luck."

"Whatever."

The pilot stepped back into the tiny jet and started up the engines. Nostalgia rushed through Wolf as he heard the familiar sounds of a takeoff—the hum of the engines and the whine of the air the vehicle displaced.

Wolf was alone now, and, contrary to what he had originally thought, being alone didn't make him feel any better. He had come all of this way, and there went his only way back. He missed the reassuring feeling of having his own personal ship nearby, but it, like most of his life, was gone, reduced to a painful memory whose sole purpose was to torment him in times like these.

His ears twitched as he picked up footsteps. Someone was approaching him. Despite his exceptional vision, he couldn't see whom it was.

"Welcome," came a stuffy sounding voice. The footsteps stopped, and a figure appeared a few meters away. There was a moment of silence.

"Well," the voice started again, "you're very talkative."

"Can you just show me to my room?" Excessive formalities always irritated Wolf. They did nothing but waste time, during which he could be sleeping. It was late, and his arms were already tired of their burden.

"Fine. Your name, please."

"Wolf O'Donnell."

The man clicked on a flashlight, illuminating a clipboard in his hands. From the resulting light, Wolf could see that the man was a gray-headed furless. He rifled through the clipboard for a moment before saying, "Very well, follow me."

Wolf followed the man towards the Gothic building, stumbling a few times in the darkness and often pausing to adjust his grip on the cumbersome bags. The man—butler, he assumed—approached the door. There was a brief jingle of keys and the sound of a key turning, then the door slid open.

He entered large, dimly-lit room, sporting several doors. The man led him to the right side of the room and opened a door there, leading him into a corridor with doors scattered on both sides. He walked for what seemed like ages before the man stopped and pressed a button on the wall. The two opposing doors here were metallic and larger than the rest. Elevators.

There was a chime as the elevator opened, then Wolf followed the man inside, and watched as he pressed a button marked with a "5," causing it to light up. Wolf set his bags down and flexed his fingers. The things had gone numb.

"You're on the fifth floor," the man said, as if it wasn't obvious. "You'll be in room 522, and your roommate is..." He glanced back down at his clipboard. "Marth. He should already be here. You're the last person to arrive." The last sentence was full of scorn, as if Wolf was late and he was to blame for it.

Wolf held his tongue to avoid a biting comeback. The man had a serious superiority complex.

The elevator chimed again. He picked his bags up and followed the man once more. They came to an abrupt halt at one of the doors to the left, and a rectangular card was thrust into Wolf's hands.

"This is your room key. Don't lose it." He sounded as if he had said the same thing a thousand times. "We will wake you tomorrow and have a meeting after breakfast. Good night." He turned and walked off.

It seemed like Wolf wouldn't get to sleep in peace after all.

When the footsteps faded, he pressed the key card into the lock and opened the door. The room was dark, and there was a subtle snoring sound emanating from inside. He fumbled around in the darkness for a suitable place to set his bags, and dropped them in the first clear, out-of-the-way place he found. He located his bed without incident, crept on it without getting underneath the covers, and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

A loud banging reverberated through the room, dragging Wolf out of his slumber.

"Wake up!" someone shouted. It came from outside.

Wolf groaned, stretched, and ambled out of the bed, wiping the sleep out of his good eye in the process.

"Wake up!" The voice startled him again.

"I'm up!" he called back, a little louder than necessary.

He rubbed his eye once more. The lights were already on. The room was medium sized and rectangular, more deep than wide, with furniture—a dresser and a bed—on each side. There was another door at the back of the room which probably led to a bathroom. All in all, it looked like a room two quarreling siblings might share.

Wolf saw his roommate's bags, but not their owner. _Great_, he thought._ That's one less person to deal with_. Then, realization hit him: he had no idea where he was supposed to go. Growling to himself, he went over to his own bags and picked up the one that contained his clothes and toiletries. A good shower would help to wake him up and clear his head, and maybe by the time he was done, his roommate would show up.

On his way to the bathroom, Wolf passed by his dresser, and something on it caught his eye. A piece of paper stood there, leaning against the mirror, with tidy script splayed across its surface. He picked it up and began to read.

"Dear Roommate,

I apologize for not being here, but I'm used to getting up early. I know this is your first time at this tournament, so on the back of this letter, I've written directions to the cafeteria, which is where we eat and where we hold meetings. They will probably wake you around 7:00, and the meeting starts at 8:00, so you have an hour to get down there and eat breakfast. Good luck.

Sincerely,

Prince Marth"

He set the letter down. That "prince" Marth was probably just the typical guy who thought he was too important to waste his time on the newbie. _Sure, he'll be fine. Just ditch him, leave him some vague directions, and go be first in line like always. Spoiled prince._

Wolf walked into the bathroom and proceeded to take his shower, tired of his roommate before he met him. So far, the tournament hadn't impressed him, but it was all he had, and there was no turning back now.

* * *

**Chapter One: Confrontation**

Wolf grasped the letter between two fingers, squinting at the directions on the back side.

_Second floor..._

He headed towards the elevator and jabbed at the button marked with a down arrow. Moments later, the elevator opened, revealing a young, blonde-haired lady, dressed in pink. Wolf stepped in and looked away from her, noticing in the process that the button marked with a "2" was already lit.

"Hey," she said.

He didn't respond.

"You must be one of the new guys. Where's your roommate?" she asked.

"He went down earlier."

"Oh... He left you all on your own?" She sounded like an over-concerned mother worrying over a pup.

He nodded. "He left directions... I guess."

"Oh. Well, that's good. They always pair up the new people with the veterans."

The elevator chimed and opened. He stepped out, and so did she.

"Going to the cafeteria?" he asked.

She nodded. "Mmhm."

He folded the sheet of paper and crammed it into his pocket."Mind if I tag along?" he asked.

"Not at all," she said. "My name's Peach. If you need help with anything, let me know."

"Alright." He hesitated. "I'm Wolf." At least he wouldn't have to follow those directions anymore.

"Ah, Wolf, you say? You must be with those other-"

"Peach!" someone yelled.

Wolf jumped and whirled around, bringing up his hands and baring his teeth on instinct. A mustached man dressed in blue and red was the one that had startled him. The man threw up his hands in shock.

"Err..." Wolf said, still alert. A tense silence enveloped the hall.

Peach broke it with a giggle that sounded a little forced. "There'll be plenty of time for that later," she said. "Lighten up."

Wolf relaxed, bit by bit, his heart still pounding. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

Peach stepped between Wolf and the newcomer. "Hey, Mario, this is Wolf," she said, waving her arms at the lupine. "Wolf, this is Mario."

"Pleased to meet you," Mario said in a heavily accented voice, extending a gloved hand.

"Likewise," he said, trying to sound sincere. He extended his hand to grasp Mario's, taking care not to accidentally scratch him.

"Come on, Wolf," Peach said, "you can sit with us."

"Alright," he said, thinking that the motherly lady and the accented, big-nosed man couldn't possibly be too popular. Maybe sitting with them would bring him some peace.

They entered the cafeteria, an enormous room furnished by several rectangular tables with a serving line in the back. Only a few of the tables were occupied, most of them bearing only a few people, except for one, which had more people at it than the rest of them combined. When he saw where they were headed, Wolf groaned.

"Something wrong?" Peach asked.

"No... Just... Can I go ahead and get in line?"

"You don't want to meet the others first?"

"No... no, I really don't." His eyes strayed back over to that overpopulated table.

Peach paused for a moment, fidgeting. "Can I come with you?"

"Er..." The request caught him completely off-guard. "Sure."

He started off towards the line, Peach walking beside him.

"Is there anything bothering you?" Peach asked.

He wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but he knew that would be a bit rude. "You could say that," he said, grimacing.

"Anything I can help with?"

"No."

"Are you sur—"

"Yes."

Peach opened her mouth, then closed it. "Alright then."

They entered the line, with Peach in front, and an awkward silence came over them. Wolf didn't try to break it; it was far more comfortable than their conversation had been. The line was moving rather slow, and he took advantage of that, letting his eyes wander around the room, sizing up all the contestants. There was a young lady with brown hair, a dinosaur-looking thing, a blue hedgehog... There were all sorts of people, but none of them looked like they were great fighters. Maybe winning would be easy. After a few minutes of analyzing everyone in the room, he turned his gaze to the entrance of the cafeteria. A few more contestants entered as the line shortened: a pink puffball, an enormous penguin, and Fox McCl-

Fox?!

He flattened himself against the wall, his breathing quickening. Fox wasn't supposed to be here. Wolf had left behind his entire world when he came. There were supposed no more problems to drag him down, no bounty on his head, and no old hatreds to rekindle. It was supposed to be a new start.

Or so he had thought. Somehow, part of his old life had followed him, and that part was tied closely to the problems he came here to get away from.

"Peach, can I get in front of you?" he asked.

"Er... Sure."

"Try to hide me," he whispered, darting in front of her.

"Hrm?"

"Just do it!"

"I can't..." She waved her arms around. "Hide you from what?"

"Fox!" Cowering against the wall, he didn't dare turn around to see if Peach had done as he asked. He held his breath, afraid that its sound would reveal his presence.

Footsteps. He heard footsteps. Someone was approaching. He hoped it wasn't _him_.

"...need to chill out," someone said.

"The Hands were okay," a different voice—this one much more familiar—said, "but this Tabuu guy... I don't know. He just... Something doesn't seem right about him."

Wolf knew that voice. He would recognize it anywhere. Shrinking against the wall, he knew it was too late. A confrontation would be unavoidable.

"You're just used to 'em. Give the new guy a chance," the first voice said.

"Eh... Whatever. Hey, Peach—oh, hey, who is that? New guy?"

"Uhm..." Peach started.

Wolf knew she wouldn't be able to save him. His options were limited: he could wait for Fox to push past Peach, probably resulting in being called a coward; he could make a mad dash out of the room and demand to be send back, back to his old problems; or he could just confront the vulpine and hope for the best. The latter was the least problematic, but it was also the most difficult. He took a deep breath, prayed to whatever gods there were for the best, and stepped away from the wall.

Upon turning around, he saw Fox, looking as young and strong as ever, and his companion, that annoying bird. It seemed to take Fox a few seconds to realize who the lupine was.

"W—Wolf?" he said, his face contorted into an unreadable mixture of expressions.

Wolf would have payed to see it—the great Fox McCloud, completely stunned. "Hey, Fox," he said, trying to maintain his composure and sound nonchalant. His gaze shifted over to the bird. "And you."

"What are you doing here, fur-face?" the bird asked, not quite as affected as Fox.

"I came here to get away," Wolf said, emphasizing the words a bit more than necessary. His gaze slid back to Fox. "And to win, of course." He always ended up saying something arrogant like that whenever Fox was around. He tried to blame it on his want of superiority. Since he couldn't actually be superior, he had to rely on words, and he couldn't afford to show weakness, not here, not to Fox.

The vulpine nodded his head. "So, things haven't been going too well for you after—"

Wolf glared at him and made the most threatening noise he could muster.

"Oh... Jeez," Fox said, backing away a bit and raising his hands in an _I surrender _motion. "Sorry." At least he sounded sincere.

A long moment passed through which there was no conversation. Poor Peach looked mystified.

It soon became Wolf's turn to get his food. Once he had his tray, he stopped to wait for Peach before proceeding to her table, but Fox intercepted her and kept her glued to his side, talking with her about something. When she started walking again, Fox was right at her side with his tray full as well. They approached him at the same time.

"Hey, Wolf," Fox started, "Do you... you want to sit with us?" He held his tray in one hand and gestured towards himself and Falco with the other.

There was something strange about his voice that Wolf couldn't quite take in, something that caused him to hesitate, to not give an immediate "no." He couldn't sit with Fox, though. It just wasn't right. The vulpine was supposed to be his enemy. Besides, he had already promised Peach he would sit with her. He tried to think of a clever way to refuse...

"Hah! You're joking, right?" The words just flew out. He had done it again. But Fox didn't look surprised, or even insulted.

"No, I'm not." the vulpine said. "Sit with us. Please?"

Wolf bit his lip to avoid another stupid, embarrassing remark. He looked around, from Fox, to Falco, to Peach. When his gaze met Peach's, he stopped. She was trying to mouth something to him. He couldn't tell what message she was trying to send, but he knew it couldn't be a threat to sit with her.

It was then that he realized what his alternative was. What was worse: sitting with two old rivals, or sitting with who-knows-how-many over-friendly strangers?

"Actually," he said, his tongue tripping over the words, "yeah... I think—I think I'll sit with you." _Smooth move_, his inner voice scolded him.

A brief moment passed in which Wolf felt like a fool, like he had just been the butt of some overdone joke. Nobody moved, and nobody said anything. To his, relief, though, Fox broke it.

"Alright," Fox said, flashing Wolf a quick grin. His teeth were perfect...

_Snap out of it! _Wolf told himself, turning to Peach, mainly to avoid gazing at the vulpine. He thought she had just helped him, but he couldn't be sure. He felt that he was obligated to apologize. Or thank her. Or both.

"Sorry," he said. "But—"

"No problem." She winked. "Good luck."

Wolf watched dumbly as she pranced back to her table, puzzling over the meaning of her last comment.

"Coming?" Fox said.

Wolf turned around to face his rivals. "Yeah."

The vulpine led him to a table situated far away from the crowded one. Wolf sat across from him, and when Falco joined them moments later, he sat beside Fox.

Wolf had just started feeling awkward when Fox tapped Falco on the shoulder. "Hey, why don't you go say something to Samus?" he said. "You still—"

"Hey," Falco interrupted, glancing over to Wolf, his gaze lingering far too long for it to be just a casual glance. "...Yeah... I think I will. I'll be right back."

As Falco was getting up, Fox leaned over and whispered something into his ear. He nodded in return.

"What was that about?" Wolf asked when Falco disappeared from sight.

The vulpine just shrugged, then stared off to the side. Wolf turned around and followed Fox's gaze to see Falco ambling up to one of the tables across the room, his movements erratic and jerky. A single person sat at the table, a blonde-haired woman dressed in a skin-tight blue suit.

Wolf began to feel a bit uncomfortable, like he was intruding on something. He turned on his tray, scooping up the first thing he saw in his spork, and shoving it into his mouth.

He gagged. He hated eggs.

From the corner of his vision, he could see Fox turn to look at him.

"What's wrong with you?" Fox asked in a low voice.

The subtle note of concern in the vulpine's voice caused Wolf's mind to go blank. "E-eggs," he said. He turned on his tray again, and managed to gag on eggs once more.

"Not that. And please, stop doing that. Is it Krystal?"

"What do you mean?" He was trying to stall, but Fox was too smart for his own good, and would probably end up figuring it out anyway. On top of that, Wolf now had the rather unpleasant aftertaste of scrambled eggs to deal with.

"You know what I mean." Fox said.

Wolf sat his spork down, folded his arms, and looked directly at Fox, scrutinizing his every move. "Why do you care?" he asked. The vulpine probably just wanted to gloat or something.

Fox sighed. "Look, I know we haven't been the best of friends..."

Wolf cleared his throat.

"Or friends at all," he amended. "But something's seriously wrong with you. You look like you haven't slept in about a week."

"I got sleep yesterday."

Fox stared at Wolf, his expression unreadable, his emerald eyes piercing like daggers. Wolf shuffled in his seat, scratching a part of his body that didn't itch. Moments later, Fox shook his head and leaned closer. Wolf almost breathed a sigh of relief.

"Stop trying to act so tough," Fox said. "Look, Peach said she asked you the same thing, and that you wouldn't tell her anything, that you wouldn't let her help, and that you almost killed Mario just because he snuck up on you. Something is wrong with you, Wolf, admit it. What is it?"

"It's not Krystal," Wolf said.

"Then what is it?" His eyes bored into Wolf once more. The lupine avoided his gaze. Was it worth the risk, confiding in a rival? Who else could he confide in?

There was nobody else. Fox was, in all honesty, the closest he had to a friend at that moment. He growled. He had kept the frustration and sadness inside for too long, and he had to let it out sometime, or it was going to consume him. "It's everything else!" he shouted. Eyes from all over the room turned on him. He spoke again, in a lower voice. "Krystal can burn for all I care. I wish she was never born."

"Wolf..."

"Don't start with me, pup. Do you want to hear what I've been through? It's been hell."

He expected Fox to snap back a clever, stinging comeback about his own life in recent times, but instead, he leaned over the table, rested his head in his right paw, and said, gently, "Go ahead." He looked genuinely interested. It was kind of cute. As cute as a mortal enemy could be, at least. Realize what he had just thought, Wolf had to force himself to keep talking, because he felt that if he didn't continue, he would do something stupid.

"After I said... You know, what I said, Panther got mad. He got so mad that he left the team."

Fox's eyes widened.

"He took Leon with him. I don't even know what his problem was. And guess what? They took the mothership too, and most of our money. They left me with nothing but my Wolfen." He paused. "I had to sell it."

Fox's jaw dropped as much as his hand would allow. "Why?"

"I couldn't get any jobs—well, none that were worth it. Nothing would cover the costs, not unless you're a hitman or something. The bounty on my head didn't help: nobody would hire me for an honest job—they all wanted to turn me in." He paused again. "I had to pay people, Fox. Pay them to go to the store and buy me food. I've had to live like a criminal." Underneath that, there was the unspoken _you are a criminal_.

"Sheesh... I'm sorry," Fox said. "That... that really sucks. That's why you came here?"

Wolf couldn't help feeling a bit thankful for the sympathy, and that awkward feeling returned again, forcing him to continue. "I guess. Just wanted to get away. The invitation was the only good thing to happen for a while, and I couldn't really refuse it anyway. But I guess if I win this, I'll have enough money to live for a nice, long time. Maybe I could pay off my bounty or something."

Fox looked away, this time not towards Falco. "I guess it's sort of my fault."

Wolf raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, it was me and Panther..." His voice was unsteady, and his posture stiff.

"It wasn't your fault. I'd love to say it was, but..." He growled and threw up his hands in rage, faintly aware of how unnaturally easy it was to confess all this to Fox. "It was just so stupid! I lost my temper once and it ruined my entire life. It wasn't even for a good reason." More eyes turned on him and he once again tried to ignore them.

Fox shifted in his seat. "You know, Wolf, what you said back then... it was kind of true."

"Really?" He was unable to contain the hope from seeping through to his voice, but Fox didn't give any acknowledgment that he'd heard it.

"Yeah... I'd thought things like that in the past, but never really paid attention to them. I was too busy chasing after her. But what you said was right-on."

Wolf grinned. It was the first time he had smiled in... he didn't even know how long. "It was so stupid," he said. "She would get in some stupid argument with you, then come crying to Panther, fall hopelessly in love with him for a couple of days, then go crawling back to you, begging for forgiveness. Then she'd do it all over again." He realized how much he had just insulted both Fox and Krystal. Had he said something wrong? He watched Fox for signs of a reaction, and was relieved when the vulpine laughed, resting his hands on the table.

"I know what you mean. For a moment, even if it was just a small one, I really felt like we, err—" Wolf could have sworn he saw Fox's ears go down in a blush. "That is, me and Krystal, had something special going on. I guess I was wrong."

"Look," Fox started, drumming his claws against the table, "even if you don't win, I could always help you out a little. You should have just called."

The thought had crossed him once or twice when he wasn't in his right mind. He always felt that Fox would laugh at him and point out that it was all his fault, or something like that. He would never have imagined Fox saying what he just did. Someone actually wanted to go out of his way to help him. It was touching.

"Thanks," Wolf said, his tongue once again having difficulty. He thought he could feel himself blushing a bit. _Calm down_, he told himself. _You can't let him have that kind of effect on you_.

"No problem... Buddy." Fox smiled, revealing those flawless canines again. Wolf found himself smiling, too. Twice in the same day—what a miracle.

It was at that moment that Falco came back and sat down. "It's almost time for it to start."

It took a while for Fox to turn to Falco and respond. "Alright. How'd it go?"

"It was..." He glanced over at Wolf again. "I'll tell you later."

"Come on, don't be rude," Fox said.

"Hey, the new guy's here, pay attention." At first, Wolf thought the bird was talking about him, but both Fox and Falco turned to face the entrance of the cafeteria.

Sure enough, a tall, pale-skinned man had entered the room, carrying a stack of papers. The newcomer stood in the front of the room and cleared his throat. Within moments, the room became completely quiet.

Wolf shuderred. The man certainly had a powerful presence.

"Good morning, contestants," the man said, his voice resonant. "Welcome to the Smash Brothers' third annual tournament. My name is Tabuu, and for those of you who have participated here before, you know that this is my first year running the tournament, and that the Hands have ran the previous ones. I assure you, not much will be different, but what rules I set, I will expect to be followed. There will be no toleration of infractions here, and violators will be disqualified. But I don't think we will have many problems. The rules include but are not limited to: no males on the female floors, and no females on the male floors; no purposefully injuring contestants in the training area; no cheating in an official match..."

The man's voice became a droning sound in the background to Wolf. Most of the rules were obvious enough that he didn't need to listen to them be called out anyway. His gaze drifted back over to rest on Fox. Many long moments later, he realized that he was staring, and that Fox was staring back. He tried to tear his gaze away, but he only succeeded in eliciting an awkward jerk from his head. Fox raised a paw and made a tiny waving gesture towards him. He fidgeted and tried to acknowledge the gesture—to wave back, to nod, to do _something—_but his body wouldn't listen.

Tabuu cleared his throat again. It was by no means a loud or piercing sound—in fact, it was quite the contrary—but it ripped Wolf's attention away from Fox. Tabuu walked over to a nearby unoccupied table. "I'm placing a schedule of the upcoming events on this table," he said. "It shows when the matches are and who will be fighting in them. I will trust the veterans to show the new contestants where to find all of the facilities. I am looking forward to a fair, clean tournament, and I trust that all of you are as well. Let's keep it that way. Good day."

The man turned and left, ignoring the numerous hands raised in question. Chills went through Wolf again—something about the man just didn't seem right. He turned to his food again and finished it, not waiting for Fox and Falco. He didn't want to intrude on whatever the latter had to say, and talking to Fox was getting a bit too awkward.

People were either finishing their breakfast or filing out of the room now, except for one man, garbed in blue, who stood stationary near the door. After Wolf got one of the schedules, he started out, and the man stopped him.

"Are you Wolf O'Donnell?" He asked. His voice was heavily accented, but in a different way than Mario's.

"Yeah," Wolf said.

"I'm Marth." Great, the prince. "You got my letter, right?"

Wolf nodded.

"Sorry about that, but I woke up at 5:00, and I couldn't stand to wait around for two hours for you to get up. Nice to meet you. I'll give you a tour of the place to make up for it if you want."

"Alright." He had to admit, two hours was a large span of time for someone to sit through just to be a tour guide.

"By the way, are you with Fox and Falco? You guys look like you're..."

"They're my..." He hesitated. He almost said _enemies_, then almost said _rivals_, but neither of the words really seemed appropriate. Looking back on the day, he felt the need to develop a new word to describe them. "They're friends." The words had a nice ring.

"Ah. You're lucky you have someone you know here."

He chuckled. "I guess."

He headed off in the direction of the elevator, and Marth followed. He managed to ward off most of the prince's chatter, but his thoughts were elsewhere. To be more specific, they were on someone else.

As he walked back to his room, he made a decision: that he would get to know Fox—the real Fox—not the annoying pilot with whom he always exchanged insults. His old problems were still there, but maybe, just maybe, with Fox's, he could transcend them.


	2. Chapter 2: Ambiguity

"...and this is the training room," said Marth, gesturing outward with his arms. People were scattered in small groups throughout the noisy area, some engaged in combat, and some engaged in conversation. Wolf spotted Fox and Falco in one of the corners. They were one of the groups not fighting.

Marth took him around the room, explaining various mechanisms that supposedly had something to do with training: dummies, sandbags, and outdated weapons. Wolf kept looking over at Fox. He would find himself staring whenever Marth started talking in detail about how to use one of the weapons. Luckily enough, Fox and Falco hadn't noticed them yet.

The prince was explaining how to use some style of energy gun when his topic abruptly shifted. "You want to go talk to them?"

"Huh? What?"

"Those guys." Marth gestured towards Fox and Falco. "You keep looking over there."

It took Wolf a moment to take in what Marth had said, but as soon as he did, he shook his head. "No!"

Marth raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you were friends?"

"I... well, sorta. One of them hates me. The other... I don't know." Why was he telling the prince all this?

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Wolf shrugged. "I don't know."

Marth frowned. "That's no help at all. Tell me."

Wolf sighed. The prince seemed honest enough so far, and it was probably against his royal code of honor or something to go spreading other people's business. Besides, the only other person he could really talk to was Fox, and he couldn't talk to Fox about Fox, could he? That would just be too weird.

"Well. There's this girl..."

"Got in a fight over her or something?"

"Will you let me finish?" Wolf said, annoyed at the prospect of someone even _thinking_ he would go after Krystal. "Me and him were on different teams—we were enemies—and this girl would keep going back and forth between them, always either with him, saying she liked him, or with one of my pals, saying the same thing."

"What happened?"

"I, umm... I told her off."

"And what's the problem?"

Wolf shook his head. Apparently, money did not mean education. He wasn't going to spoon-feed Marth his innermost thoughts.

"Oh!" Marth's face lit up. "I think I get it. You said you were enemies, then you said something to his girlfriend..."

Wolf winced. Who said anything about Krystal being Fox's girlfriend?

"...And you think he should be angry or something, but instead, he acts friendly?"

"Pretty much."

"Are you suspicious?"

"I don't know. It's just... weird."

Marth nodded and his gaze drifted across the room. The noise of the combatants was considerably less now, but Wolf still had to strain to hear what the prince said next.

"Did she deserve it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it," he said, his eyes still wandering. "Did she ever sleep with your friend?"

"I don't know," he said, thinking about Panther's nature and making a wild guess. "Probably."

"And did she ever sleep with _him_?"

Wolf flinched as those words grated against him. "W-what did you say?" he said by reflex.

"Did she—"

Wolf coughed, cutting off the prince. He did _not_ want to hear that again. "I don't know." Fox—with Krystal—like that? It was disturbing—no, it was _sick_.

"Well, if she did, then she deserved what you said, whatever it was. That's adultery—polygamy—and, I don't know about around here, but back where I'm from, it's punishable by death. Maybe he feels gratitude towards you because you helped him realize something. Maybe he wants to repay you for it."

"Yeah," Wolf said. "Maybe you're right. He did say something like that earlier..."

"By the way, who are we talking about? Fox or Falco?"

"Fox," Wolf said, surprised to hear a note of reverence in his voice.

Marth raised an eyebrow, probably noticing the same thing. "Well, come on," he said, walking towards the two Star Fox members.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to go talk to them."

"Don't you _dare _say _anything_ about—"

"Don't worry, I won't. I haven't seen Fox in over a year, and I don't see any point in being antisocial. You coming?"

Wolf sighed. He had said he want to find out more about Fox, and he had to start somewhere. "I guess."

They approached the pair, who turned to meet them as they realized they were being visited. Wolf could tell that Fox was somewhat pleased to have company, though he couldn't say the same of Falco.

The vulpine turned to Wolf first. "Hey, Wolf, what's up?"

The lupine's mind went blank. "Err... nothing, I just..."

"We're just stopping by to say 'hello'," Marth said. For the first time, Wolf felt thankful that Marth was there.

"Oh. You guys want to train with us some?" Fox said.

"Well," Marth started, "I'm giving Wolf a tour of the place, and we just stopped by here to look. Besides, I don't have my sword, and I don't think that's Wolf's battle gear." He gestured at Wolf's casual attire.

Wolf stuck his hands in his pockets as Fox looked over at him. "I could go change," he said. "If you want."

Fox's eyes lingered on him for a while. "Nah, it's fine. We're about to go eat, anyway."

"You just don't want to lose to me," Wolf heard himself say.

"Har har, very funny," Fox said. Wolf thought he could see Fox's facial expression sag a bit, but it could've been his imagination.

Wolf looked at the ground and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, wishing that someone would say something. He could still hear his words echoing in the air.

"Well," Marth said, "we might as well get going."

Fox nodded, and began playing with a clawtip. "Yeah."

"We should probably get going too, Fox," said Falco.

"I know... umm.." Fox's eyes wandered a bit before settling on Wolf. "Hey, Wolf, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Err... Yeah. Sure."

Fox led him away the from the others and away from the crowds of the room, into one of the dark, isolated corners, before turning around and facing him.

"What's up?" Wolf asked.

"Oh, umm... I was wondering..." He paused, shifting his feet around, his head turned to the ground. "Would you like to eat dinner with me tonight?"

The air rushed out of Wolf's lungs.

Fox took a step back and he raised up an arm. "I mean, so that we can... You know, catch up."

Oh. Wolf sighed inwardly, though he wasn't sure if it was from relief or disappointment. Why else would Fox ask to eat dinner with him anyway?

"Sure," he said, aware that he had to start somewhere.

"Alright, well," Fox shrugged. "I'll see you then, I guess? Around six or so okay?"

Wolf nodded.

"Okay then." Fox turned and walked back towards the others, Wolf not far behind him. When they reached Falco and Marth, the two were close together, chatting about something.

"...she's just like that," Marth said. "Don't take it the wrong way."

"But she can't _always _be like that! You see how she talks to Luigi, right?"

Marth laughed. "Things tend to get a little weird around Luigi, so that's just proof."

Wolf felt Fox's eyes on him before they darted back to Falco. "Hey, Falco, let's go."

Falco groaned. "Alright, fine. Whatever." He stepped over beside Fox.

"See you later," the vulpine said.

Wolf grinned. "See you later too, pup."

Fox squinted a bit. "I'm just going to pretend that was a compliment."

Wolf shrugged, and said "Fine," but Fox had already turned and went off with Falco.

He heard Falco's voice, raised an octave, saying "I'm just going to pretend that was a compliment," then saw Fox cuffing him in the arm. Wolf's eyes followed them as they exited the room, his gaze unwavering despite Marth's tugging at his sleeve.

When they finally exited, he said to Marth, "What?"

"What was that all about?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," Marth waved an arm about, "him 'having to talk to you'."

Wolf snorted. "For a prince, you sure do like to gossip."

"Hey," Marth said, looking disgusted, "I don't like to gossip—that's for ladies of the court. I just like to know things. They say that knowledge is the best defense, and—"

"So, I'm helping you beat me by telling you personal things? Sounds like an offer I can't refuse."

Marth shook his head and gave Wolf a condemning, condescending glare. "Come on, don't be a coward. Just tell me."

Maybe Marth was right—maybe knowing personal things did give people the edge in combat, because Wolf felt a definite sting at the word "coward." Wolf was sure the prince knew what he was doing there.

"Fine. He wanted me to eat dinner with him. That's all."

Marth raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "You know," he said, "back where I'm from, that's what we would call a date."

Wolf just stared.

It wasn't a date—no, it couldn't be, because Fox had said he just wanted to "catch up." Was that what Wolf had been expecting—no, hoping for? A date? With Fox McCloud?

"But it can't be," Marth said thoughtfully, his gaze drifting among the sparring groups. "You're both guys."

Then the realization hit Wolf.

What was all this? A date with another guy? Absolutely crazy. Why hadn't he noticed that?

Heck, why had he even thought of it in the first place? This was Fox McCloud—his rival, for crying out loud.

_Your former rival_, a voice inside him said.

He shook his head. He was probably just thinking this upon himself because of what the prince had said.

_Thinking about it because you want it to be true_.

He brought up his hands and clenched them around his head, as if that would shut up that infernal voice.

_Sometimes the truth hurts_. _Deal with it._

"Agh!"

"Are you alright?" Marth said, laying a hand on Wolf's shoulder. The lupine hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until then.

No. No, he wasn't alright. But what could he do about it? Saying what was on his mind was out of the question, for obvious reasons, not even counting that the prince would probably get the wrong idea and want to execute him.

He was Wolf O'Donnell—_Lord_ O'Donnell. He was supposed to be tough. He _couldn't_ show weakness. They would laugh at him, they would mock him, they would never let him know the end of it.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's get on with the tour, okay?"

"You don't want to go eat first?"

"No." All this thinking had caused him to lose his appetite.

...thinking...

Yeah, he was just overthinking it all—he had to be. It was just too crazy, like some demented nightmare, so horrifying and real at the time, but so stupid once its time passes that one has to doubt his sanity for even believing it in the first place.

Fox had asked him to eat dinner so he could talk about things back in Lylat. It was _that_ simple.

There was _no_ date.

Actually, come to think of it, he felt stupid now for even thinking that there would have been one.

"Up next is the recreaction room," Marth said. "It's quite well-stocked. They have a swimming pool, and there's this interesting game that I've picked up there called 'pocket billiards' that I've managed to make quite popular back at home. Ever heard of it?"

Wolf just nodded his headWhatever Marth said, he just nodded his head.

* * *

No matter how long Wolf stared at the clock, and no matter how quickly he paced back and forth across his room, the accursed thing just wouldn't stop ticking, and it was treading dangerously close—5:36 and counting.

It didn't matter though. It wasn't a big deal. It was just

(a date)

dinner.

Right?

He focused on his pacing, stealing another glance over at the clock.

_5:40. Damn_.

Marth had went off to the cafeteria earlier with one of his friends. The man he walked with seemed to be the epitome of royalty—he had talked perfectly, stood straight, and worn fancy clothes.

Clothes...

Wolf glanced down at his own clothing and felt his heart sink.

Going to a dining room in casual clothing? Was that appropriate?

_5:42_

It didn't matter. He didn't have anything formal, but he really should have taken a shower...

There was no time. He had to get going—now. Not only did he have to arrive there on time, but he also had to find the place. The dining room was one of the places Marth had covered after the training room, so, naturally, Wolf hadn't been paying very much attention. It was somewhere on the third floor, he knew; Marth had said something about it being put there to avoid traffic from the cafeteria.

Besides, if McCloud wanted to call it off because he wasn't dressed right—or maybe the diner wouldn't let him in because he didn't comply with some snobbish, rich-people dress code—then that was all the better for him. No more worrying over this mess.

_5:47_

He sighed. He was going to be late—he knew it.

And why did that bother him so much? Why did he even care? He had thought earlier that he wanted to get to know Fox better, but now... Maybe it would be a good idea just to stay. He wasn't dressed right, he was going to be late, and he didn't even know where the thing was.

Yeah, he should just stay. Besides, Fox wouldn't care. Fox didn't care about him. He was just trying to be nice to Wolf, and the lupine didn't need his help.

_Coward_, that voice said.

He growled, and his fur bristled.

_You're just afraid of him. Afraid of what he'll say. Afraid the date won't work out how you want it to.  
_

"No!" he shouted. He wasn't afraid of Fox, and this_ was not a date_, but... Maybe that's what this was—a challenge. Maybe Fox was just trying to see whether or not he was man enough to show up.

"I'll show him," he said with a snarl.

When he reached the door, he didn't turn around like he had been doing before. He opened it and stepped through, out of his little isolated world and into the real one.

* * *

Fox was waiting for him outside of the dining room door, wearing casual clothes—probably the same ones he had on before—and a radiant smile.

"Hey."

Wolf chuckled. All his worries had been for nothing—he had just been overthinking things again.

"Fashionably late as always, it seems—hey, what are you laughing at?"

"Your clothes. You're going to go to a fancy diner in that?"

Fox shrugged. "I don't see you in a tux. Besides, they don't force you to dress up, so why bother? Fancy stuff is itchy and hot, and all it does is make you look like a snob."

Wolf nodded. He couldn't have said it better himself.

"So," Fox said, "let's go in."

Wolf nodded again and followed the vulpine into the dining room. It was mostly empty, but there were a few couples...

...couples...

Would that be how people saw them, sitting in here? It was automatic—he didn't even think to look at them, but when he saw them two to a table, he had just assumed. Would people assume the same of him and Fox?

No, it was different. They were both male. Nobody would think that.

_You want them to, don't you_? that voice said. _Don't lie to yourself. You can see how friendly and happy Fox is acting, and people don't get that way over nothing._

Wolf clenched his teeth. He was overthinking it again, and his mind was—

_Overthinking? That's your excuse? Pathetic, Wolf. Pathetic._

No! It wasn't an excuse, and he wasn't pathetic. If he was pathetic, he would have ran away, not came here at all.

"Hey, Wolf, you alright?" Fox asked, a hand placed lightly on Wolf's shoulder and his emerald eyes staring right at the lupine.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Wolf said, glad for the interruption. Whenever Fox talked, the voice shut up.

"Good. Now, where do you want to sit?" He gestured out towards the room.

"Anywhere," he said, then thought better of it. "Actually, let's go over there." He pointed at the corner of room, one of the tables on which light fell so scarcely that it was difficult to see from the entrance. It was far away from everyone else, and the best place to escape the prying eyes in the room.

He winced as he realized that the lighting might give Fox the impression that he wanted to have a candlelit dinner with him, but it was too late to take back what he said. Fox was already headed that way, and he seemed to have no objections.

Wolf sighed and followed Fox, pulling back a chair on the opposite site of the table that the vulpine was sitting on, facing him. He sat down and glanced again around the room, feeling a bit awkward. He told himself that he had to get used to it—that he had to sit through an entire dinner with McCloud, and that things were going to be a bit weird.

A furless, suit-clad waiter walked up to the table and passed out menus to them both. Wolf opened it and skimmed down the list of items, eyes widening at the prices.

"Fox..."

"What can I get you to drink?" the waiter asked, taking out a tablet and a pen, looking towards Fox.

"I'll get water," Fox said.

The waiter's expectant gaze turned towards Wolf. He flipped through the menu frantically, trying to find the drink list. He resisted the temptation to order something alcoholic—he had had far too many bad experiences with alcohol in the past few months to sink back to that—and his eyes strayed down to the soft drinks. They were expensive as well, but water was free.

"I'll get water too," he said, ignoring the strange look from Fox.

"You guys need a few minutes?" the waiter asked after scribbling something down on his pad.

"Yeah. We do," Wolf said.

"Alright then. I'll be back." He stuffed the pen and pad into a pocket and walked away from the table. When he was out of earshot, Wolf spoke up.

"I can't afford any of this."

Fox didn't flinch, hardly giving any signs that he'd heard Wolf, as if he'd known it was coming. "I know. Just get whatever you want, and I'll cover it."

"For real?"

"Yeah. It's not a problem."

Wolf leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Wow. I'm impressed, Fox."

Fox scratched his head. "So, I'm Fox now?"

That caused Wolf to look away. "Sorry."

As he scanned back through the menu, guilt set in. These things were expensive, and Fox was going to have to pay for them. It was nice to have someone offer to do that, but it made him feel weak—like he had to rely on others to even buy his dinner for him.

He wasn't relying on Fox though—the vulpine had offered, hadn't he? Besides, when Fox had asked him to come, he had probably known he would have had to pay for it, and it didn't make a difference, because Fox was probably rich anyway.

Still, Wolf figured he should at least get something relatively cheap. He could deal with drinking water...

He shook his head. Why did he care? He found himself asking that question quite a bit as of late. Fox had offered knowing how expensive things were, and Wolf should be able to take advantage of that. It wasn't being weak. It was Fox's own damn fault for offering to pay for it in the first place.

But no matter how much those expensive items tempted him—especially the seafood: calamari, shrimp, lobster,—he couldn't bring himself to settle for them.

"What do they have that's good?" he asked. The vulpine wouldn't recommend anything that was outside of his own budget, so it would be safe to just get what he was getting.

"They have a great sirloin. That's what I'm getting."

Wolf closed his menu. It was settled. "That's what I'll get, I guess."

Not long afterwards, the waiter made his way back to their table with two dangerously-full glasses of water in his hands. "You guys ready?" he asked, setting the glasses down without spilling a drop, elegantly drawing the pen and pad out of his pocket and clicking the top of the pen, as if doing so was a fine art he had honed most of his life.

"Yeah," Wolf said, relaying his order to the man—sirloin, plain, medium rare, fries. Simple.

Fox ordered the same thing, but got his well done. That caused Wolf to laugh when the waiter was out of sight.

"What?" Fox asked, an innocent look on his face.

"Well done? That's like eating a piece of shoe leather..."

Fox shrugged. "It's better than eating it raw."

Wolf started to say something in reply, but stopped himself every time he started to speak because of how his words would sound. He found that he didn't know what to say. He felt pressured, like he was supposed to say something, but he couldn't quite figure out what that something was. He gazed around the room again, feeling like he was staring at Fox despite not having looked that way.

It was going to be a strange, long dinner.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, avoiding Fox's gaze. He glanced at the couples inhabiting the other tables around the room. Some of them were difficult to see in the dim light, but he could see a pair not far from him that had clasped hands over the table, leaning close and whispering to each other. He wondered what it would be like to hold Fox's hand like that...

He shook his head, unable to believe himself.

He had no idea where that came from—where any of it came from, really, and then there was that little voice inside him, whispering to him again since Fox had quit talking, whispering about a date, and how much the lupine wanted it.

He decided that he would humor himself—maybe shut up that infernal voice, and, if nothing else, give him a good laugh.

He decided to pretend—just for a moment—that he did like Fox McCloud. Gods, it felt so wrong to even think like that.

He decided to run the events of the day and the previous day through his head, forcing himself to keep that one thing in mind. Thoughts of what the run-through would bring him had already brought a smirk and a snicker to his face.

...He had trouble talking to Fox because he liked him.

He always spouted out random arrogant nonsense when talking to Fox because he liked him.

Fox made him smile twice—twice—in the same day because Wolf liked him.

He was being assaulted by some ridiculous voice inside of him because he liked Fox and that realization hadn't percolated to his conscious brain yet.

He was freaking out over this dinner maybe being a date because he liked Fox.

He had just wondered what it would be like to hold Fox's hand because he liked him...

As the list piled endlessly on and on, that grin faded from Wolf's face and all thoughts of laughter escaped him.

He found that he didn't have any questions left to answer—every single one was accounted for. That one little thought thrown in there had made everything make perfect sense.

It made sense, but was it true?

He took a brave glance towards Fox, hoping his face wouldn't give anything away.

What he wasn't expecting to do was to make eye contact, and when Fox's emerald eyes locked onto his, he felt shivers run through his body. Fox gave a small start in response and flashed him a pearly-white, although weak-looking smile. Wolf averted his gaze as soon as he regained control of his body, which could have been seconds, minutes, or hours later.

Yeah, it had to be true. Those eyes—they weren't piercing, no, and they didn't pull him in or anything like they always did in corny, mindless romances that rabid fangirls swore by, but, he realized, they were Fox's eyes—and that was all that mattered.

He grunted. Did that mean he was... _gay?_

He winced internally at the word. He had used it so carelessly in the past, tossed it around like nothing, but he had never been aware of its full force.

And then, he rested his head in his hands and stared down at the cold table.

_Great job, _he commended himself. He had taken it all the way, he had discovered that one thing that had been bothering him for so long—he didn't even know how long, now that he thought about it—but now he wished he hadn't.

Fox had Krystal, and Krystal was a girl. If what Marth had said was true, not only had Krystal been Fox's girlfriend, but he had also—he winced—slept with her, and there went the chance of Fox returning the lupine's affection.

He sighed. It was too much for him—he couldn't take all of this. This wasn't his job. It wasn't what he was made to do. He was supposed to be the guy who looked tough, acted cool, talked big, then blew everything up from his Wolfen for cash.

Except now, the Wolfen was gone, he looked like crap, and he couldn't act cool with Fox around.

"Hey, are you alright?" Fox asked.

He didn't respond.

"Wolf?"

"I'm fine, just... thinking about things."

There was a delay, but from his position, Wolf couldn't see why. "Don't think too hard, or you'll break something," he said. "Seriously. You look... troubled."

Troubled... that was one word for it.

He needed to get Fox talking about something, about something he could talk about easily—something that would buy him time. He lifted himself from his postion, hunched over the table, and sat back in his chair.

"How's it been with you guys?"

There—he struck gold. Fox's face lit up. "Ah, it's been alright. Not a lot to do, but we've made it good enough. Well," Fox's gaze drifted downwards, and some of that exuberance left him, "by we, I mean me and ROB."

"Huh?"

"Oh." Fox looked slightly surprised, and he picked up his glass of water, bringing it to his muzzle and sipping from it. "You didn't know? Slippy's married now, living on Aquas. Peppy got promoted to general. And, well, Falco..." He shrugged. "He's Falco. He comes and goes."

"So you're alone now?"

"Pretty much. But it's not your fault. The team just sort of..." He waved a hand. "Drifted apart."

"Wow," Wolf said. "I didn't know." That explained why Fox had been so eager to help him.

The waiter approached the table, balancing two plates in his hands. He set one plate in front of Wolf and the other in front of Fox. Wolf had to admit, the man knew what he was doing, because he had remembered who had gotten what.

"Anything you need? Steak sauce?"

"I'm fine," Fox said, shaking his head.

Wolf mimicked Fox's motion. "Me too."

"Okay then." The waiter left them in peace, turning to that table with the couple that Wolf had observed earlier.

The rest of the dinner surprised him. Now that he had that... that thing off of his chest, he found that sitting with Fox wasn't quite as awkward as it had been before, and throughout the dinner, he made considerably fewer embarrassing comments than he had been making before.

He had to admit, he was enjoying the vulpine's company. He didn't want it to end—in fact, when he reached down to cut another piece of his steak, he noticed that it was gone, and he became disappointed—not over the loss of the food, but over the imminent loss of his company.

He picked off the remaining fries on his plate rather slowly, not wanting to rush. Soon, those too failed him, and a glance over at Fox's plate revealed that it was empty as well. Time dragged on, and he hoped that Fox was silent for the same reason he was.

Eventually, the waiter came back to their table and picked up their empty plates. "Enjoy your meal?" he asked.

"Yeah," Fox said. "It was great."

Wolf just nodded.

"Can I get you guys some dessert?" he pulled out two smaller menus and held them in his hand so that they could see them.

"I don't think so. You want anything?" Fox said, turning to Wolf.

Wolf looked away, unable to meet Fox's gaze, scared he'd end up making a fool of himself in front of both the vulpine and the waiter. "You know," he said, "if you really wanted people to order dessert, you could cut down on the size of the plates, or at least tell us you had dessert before we stuffed our faces."

He had meant for that to be comedic, but the waiter looked as if he had taken offense from it. "I apologize."

"Chill out," he said. "That was a joke."

"Oh," the waiter said in the same monotone voice as before. "Well, good afternoon then." As he left, Wolf noticed that the couple he had been watching earlier was gone.

"Are all rich people so stiff?"

Fox laughed. "He's a waiter. He's not rich... and do I detect a hint of jealousy...?" he asked, leaning towards Wolf and tilting his head.

"Shut up." he said. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that.

Fox didn't seem to take offense though. He just pulled out a wallet and fished out some tip money, laying it on the table. It was a generous amount—not too much, but more than Wolf thought the waiter deserved...

Maybe he was a bit jealous.

"Well," Fox said, tucking away his wallet and reclining in his chair, "I enjoyed that. Really."

Wolf was feeling brave, and he decided to take it up a notch. "Yeah, I did too. We'll..." He hesitated. "We'll have to do it again sometime. Maybe," he added, not wanting to be too obvious, and not wanting to give Fox the wrong—or was it the right?—idea.

"Yeah," Fox said. "I'd like that."

Wolf looked away. What Fox said couldn't have possibly meant what he wanted it to, but it was something to cling to.

"I was, umm..." Fox started, the nervous tone of his voice causing Wolf to look up. "I was starting to think you weren't going to come."

Wolf tried to muster a grin, but he couldn't be sure of his success there. "I almost didn't."

"Well," Fox said, "I'm glad you did."

"Me too," Wolf said, bewitched.

He wasn't sure how long they just sat there, but, eventually, Fox stood, stretched, and pushed his chair under the table. Wolf did the same thing, but dragged it out, not quite wanting to end this yet. He realized that he didn't care if this was a date anymore, and, actually, he wouldn't have minded it being one. He almost wished that it was. He _did _wish that it was.

But it wasn't. Couldn't be.

He followed Fox to the elevator, where the vulpine pressed the up button. The doors opened not long afterwards, and they both stepped in. Fox pushed the button marked with a "5."

Wolf looked away from Fox the ride upward—something that he was used to doing and was now automatic. When the door opened and they stepped out, he knew that he had to take a right, and when he turned that way, he was a bit disappointed to see Fox turn to the left. So much for getting to know his room number.

"Well," Fox said, "I had fun. I'll talk to you later, I guess?"

"Yeah." Wolf nodded.

"Okay then. See you."

Wolf nodded in response. Fox then turned and walked down the hall, towards his room. Wolf had to resist the urge to just stand there and stare at Fox. Finally forcing himself to accept that the vulpine wasn't coming back, he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked towards his own room.

He fumbled with the door, and after many failed attempts at getting the thing to accept his card, he finally got it open and stepped in, muttering something about the inferior technology.

"Hey."

Wolf looked in the direction of the voice to see Marth, laying on his bed, a book in one of his hands, a finger stuck inside it to mark his place.

"How did it go?"

"It was... pretty good," he said.

Marth nodded and opened the book again, staring into it as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Wolf walked over to his bed and lay in it, not tired, but wanting to rest his feet. He ran the events of the night through his head, and they brought a smile to his muzzle.

He hoped that their next date would be sooner rather than later, and wondered what it would have in store for him. It took him a moment to realize it, but he chuckled when he noticed that he had just thought about their dinner as a date.

Maybe that was what it was—it didn't matter. He had enjoyed it nonetheless, and he wanted another one. And, he realized, Fox's being there was starting to shift from being something suspicious, something he had to watch out for, to being something that he enjoyed, looked forward to, and was nervous about for a different reason entirely.


	3. Chapter 3: Duplicity

The next chapter after this should be up shortly. I'd originally planned to either have this chapter and the next as one single chapter (which would be ridiculously long) or to upload them both at the same time, but I realized today that I was holding off on publishing this section because of the work that was needed on the next one. So, anyway, enjoy.

Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me thus far.

* * *

Wolf stepped out of the elevator, Marth at his side. It wasn't a long walk to the cafeteria, and when they got there, it wasn't quite as populated as it had been the day before. Wolf arched his neck and glanced about, trying to spot Fox.

He could make out the vulpine, sitting amidst a few others, grinning for a reason Wolf was completely sure had nothing to do with him. He wasn't surprised. Of course Fox was a popular guy. Of course the only reason why they had been alone the previous day was because Fox had made it so.

And there he was, already obsessing over the vulpine, and he had only been awake half an hour.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He turned to see Marth standing beside him.

"Coming?" the price asked.

"...yeah." He followed Marth to the line and idled there as it shrunk, wary of how close his gaze was to Fox the entire time. It became his turn soon enough, and he exited the line with a tray loaded with an assortment of foods.

He moved his eyes slowly towards Fox, trying to be inconspicuous. The vulpine was sitting about halfway across the room, engaged in conversation with Falco. Marth had headed off toward that table though—and, now that Wolf looked, he could see the prince's friend from yesterday over there as well—so he figured it would be pretty safe to follow. He did so, sitting beside Marth, who was sitting across from his friend from yesterday. Fox sat three or four seats to the right, on the opposite side of Wolf, and he was still talking with the bird.

"Hey," Marth said.

"Hey."

The prince brought up an arm and gestured towards the man sitting across from him. "This is Ike. Ike, this is Wolf, my roommate."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," said Wolf, well aware that learning the stranger's name didn't please him in any particular way. He picked up a piece of ham and crammed it into his mouth, then proceeded to do the same with the rest of his meal. The two near him would occasionally say something, but he ignored them for the most part. He finished his meal not long afterwards, and was about to get up when Fox stood and came to sit in front of him.

"Hi." Fox flashed him a smile.

"Hey." Wolf noted that Fox's tray was empty.

"Didn't see you at breakfast this morning."

"I overslept. _Genius_ over here," he pointed at Marth, "didn't wake me up." Fox snickered a bit.

The prince looked up from his tray, swallowing. "You know I get up early."

"What were you doing for_ six hours_? Breakfast doesn't take _that _long, even for you."

"Training."

Wolf felt his eyes widen. "Oh."

"I haven't seen you down there," Marth said. "Have you been?"

Wolf grimaced. "Once."

"The tour?" asked Fox. Wolf shot him a glare.

Fox paused. "Have you looked at the schedule yet? My first fight is today, at three. You might want to... you know, train some before you have a fight."

"Yeah, I know." Wolf was aware of everyone's eyes on him. "Why don't we go now?"

"Forget about it," said Marth.

Wolf turned to face the prince. "Huh?"

"It's so crowded in there in the day that you can hardly even breathe, and you have no chance of getting one of the simulators. Go early or late if you want to get anything done."

"Why don't we go tonight, then?" Fox looked around at Marth, Ike, and Wolf. "Just the four of us, and maybe Falco."

"I can't do it," Ike said. "I've got something else that I have to take care of."

Wolf wondered what else the man could possibly have to do here, but Marth nodded, as if there was something important that Wolf was oblivious to. "I can come, though," Marth said.

Wolf once more became aware of everyone's eyes on him. He fidgeted. "When?"

Fox turned to look at Marth, who raised a finger to his chin. "Ah, let's say, ten or so? We can wrap it up around eleven."

"I guess," Wolf said. Everyone else voiced their assent as well.

"Alright." Fox lifted his tray, stood, and waved. "I'll see you guys later."

Something clicked in Wolf. He grabbed his tray, and he found himself standing, then walking beside Fox.

The vulpine raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

Wolf had absolutely no clue.

"I'm just, uhh... dumping my tray."

Fox's head darted down to said tray before looking up again at Wolf. "You haven't even eaten half of your food."

"I'm not hungry."

Fox looked straight ahead and shrugged. "Whatever."

Wolf dumped his tray, with Fox following not too far behind. He angled to exit the cafeteria, but Fox went back towards the table.

Wolf hesitated, the words stuck on his tongue. It was the only opportunity he would get, and, if he didn't say it now, he would never have a chance to say it again.

But what if he blew it?

He gritted his teeth, deciding that it was worth the risk. "Hey."

Fox turned around, and set his eyes on Wolf. "Yeah?"

The lupine shoved his hands into his pockets, looking at the floor. "Good luck."

Fox hesitated for a moment. "What?"

"I said... good luck."

Fox's eyes latched on to him, staring through him as if the vulpine was trying to see through a trap.

Wolf backed up and threw up his hands. "Hey, I was just trying to be nice."

After what seemed like several grueling minutes, Fox's expression softened. "Umm... thanks." He swept his gaze across the room. "I've... I gotta go." In a flash of golden fur, he was off.

Wolf stood there, thinking about how pleasant it would be to bang his head against the wall.

* * *

The elevator chimed, and Wolf shoved himself out as soon as the door slid open enough to accommodate him. Five or six others followed him, too lost in their conversation to care. He headed for the lounge, shoving several others out of his way and ignoring the cries of "watch where you're going!". He jumped in the first open seat he could find and took a look at his surroundings.

The lounge had the look of a small auditorium. An enormous, widescreen television dominated the room, and several rows of fixed chairs radiated outward from the television with two clear paths dividing the seats into three sections.

The weight of Wolf's chair shifted. He looked over and saw someone had sat down beside him. It was the bird. "Hey, bird-brain."

Falco glared at Wolf. "Hey, mutt. Come to watch the guy who'll send you back home?"

"Hah! Yeah, right. I'm just here to... to evaluate the competition." He hated how obvious the lie was, how he couldn't think of anything convincing to say.

Falco laughed. "Yeah... sure. Y'know, you're pretty pathetic."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Falco shook his head and stared straight forward at the screen. "Nothing."

Wolf sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. He stared at the ceiling for a while before noticing how quiet it had gotten. He looked down and saw that the pale man—what was his name, Tabuu?—had appeared on the screen.

Tabuu said, "Good afternoon, and welcome to the first match. Our contestants today are Fox McCloud and Sonic the Hedgehog. We will begin momentarily."

The screen went blank again. A few minutes later, images of Fox and the blue creature Wolf had seen earlier appeared on the screen. He heard Tabuu's eerie voice chime in with a few more supposedly-important things.

When Tabuu finished speaking, an image of a flat stadium with several platforms appeared, followed by a countdown timer, which began descending from ten seconds. When it reached three, Fox and Sonic appeared on the battlefield. When it reached zero—

The figures jerked into motion. Wolf could trace the movements of Fox, but Sonic had become a blue blur moving across the screen. Fox looked as if he was having difficulty keeping up with the hedgehog, let alone fighting him.

Wolf glanced over at Falco, and was met with a stare from the bird, who didn't appear worried at all.

"What's the matter, puppy, afraid Fox is going to lose?"

He bit his lip. "Shut it. If he loses, I'm gonna kill him. _I'll_ be the one who takes him out, not this... fuzzball."

Falco's twisted his beak, apparently trying to hide a smile.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just keep watching."

When Wolf turned back to the television, he was met with the same grim image. Sonic seemed to land a dozen hits on Fox for everyone one that the vulpine landed on him.

Wolf gripped the armrest of the chair. He had to force himself to keep watching as much as he wanted to look away. The two combatants clashed, exchanging a flurry of light blows. Fox backed out of the fray after Sonic landed several hits on him. Wolf could see that Fox's breathing was labored.

Sonic stood on the other side of the stage, motionless for the first time. He wore an overconfident yet intimidating grin, and seemed to be stalling for its effect.

And just as soon as he stopped, he was a blur of motion again, flying towards Fox. Wolf almost looked away when Sonic approached the vulpine.

Fox, however, sidestepped, and delivered a kick which sent Sonic flying off the stage. The combined force of it and the hedgehog's speed was too much for a recovery.

After a few seconds, Falco said, "He never stood a chance," his voice sounding distant.

Tabuu had appeared on the screen again, and was saying something, but Wolf blocked it out, staring at the floor. No matter what Falco thought, it wouldn't have taken very much for Fox to be defeated. Wolf hadn't thought of it before, but now that he'd seen it firsthand, the prospect of elimination seemed so very real.

Wolf glanced up at the screen, which had since gone blank. Falco had already left. He waited for the crowd to clear before standing and walking out, heading towards the elevators.

* * *

The training room was a spartan place—bright and completely barren, much bigger than Wolf remembered. There were a few doors that he'd failed to notice earlier, mostly all on the wall opposite the entrance. If he had to guess, he would've assumed they led to the combat simulators. Whatever those were, at least.

Marth was pacing back and forth, glancing at the entryway every few seconds. "They should be here any minute..."

As if on cue, Wolf heard footsteps from the hallway leading into the room. A few seconds later, Fox and Falco appeared in the doorway.

"Took you long enough," Wolf said, crossing his arms.

Falco snorted, looking deliberately away from Fox. "Hey, living with the great Fox McCloud ain't as great as you'd think it'd be."

Frowning, Fox threw his hands up and looked at the bird. "Hey, you trying to pin this all on me?"

"Well, I'm not the one who—"

"Guys," Marth said, causing the duo to turn and face him. "Why don't we get started?"

The two looked at each other, then Fox nodded. "Okay. So, how are we doing this?"

Marth paused. "I was thinking one on one. All the rooms are open—" Marth gestured towards the wall with the doors, which Wolf counted three of. "—so we have all the space we need."

Fox nodded. "Okay, who goes where?"

"I was thinking you and I could spar together. You know, for old times' sake."

"That's fine with me, if it's alright with you guys." Fox looked at Wolf, who averted his gaze.

Falco grunted, glaring at the lupine. "Oh no, that won't work."

It took the lupine a moment to figure out what Falco had meant. "Yeah, birdie's got a point."

"Why?" Marth said.

"You expect me to be locked in a room with that guy?" Falco pointed at Wolf. "In a combat simulation?"

"Oh, please. Can't you two deal with each other for more than two minutes?"

"No," Falco and Wolf said simultaneously. At that, Wolf glared at the bird with all the strength he could muster, causing Falco to do the same thing.

"No, they can't," Fox said. Wolf snapped his gaze over to the vulpine, finding that Fox was looking at him. "Really. They'd prolly both end up dead."

After a few moments, Marth shrugged. "It makes no difference to me, though there's no sense in us just going against our roommates... why don't I go with Falco, then, and you with Wolf? "

The words hit Wolf with noticeable force, and he put forth extra effort to be sure that he didn't show any physical signs of it. To make things worse, Fox was staring at him now, and Wolf was trying his best to return the look.

"Whatever." Fox shrugged in a fluid motion, his tail swishing lightly behind him. "I'll do it if Wolf will."

Everyone's eyes were on Wolf again. He shrugged, trying to mimic Fox's grace. "I guess."

"Yeah, don't even ask _me_," Falco said. Wolf felt like he was free from a great burden as soon as the eyes left him.

"Because you definitely have a reason not to fight Marth," Fox said, his eyes half lidded.

"He'll murder me!"

Fox laughed. "Now you know how I feel."

Falco grimaced, the motion looking a bit too intense to be natural. "Fine, fine. Whatever. I'll do it."

"Then it's settled," Marth said. "We'll go in room one, and you guys have have room two. Perhaps we'll switch after a while."

"Alright." Fox motioned to Wolf. "Come on."

Wolf followed with his hands in his pockets, keeping his gaze low. He found his eyes following the waving of Fox's tail, and he couldn't think of any good reason to stop. "So... combat simulators?" He spoke more out of awkwardness than actual curiosity.

"They're pretty neat, let you fight without actually getting hurt."

Wolf had reached the door now, Fox beside him. "Impressive. How does that work?"

The vulpine opened the door and stepped in, Wolf a few steps behind him. The room was fairly large, dimly lit by light sources he couldn't identify, with a control panel in the corner to the left. Fox had already started towards it. "I dunno," he said, pressing buttons on the console. "The Hands can do some pretty crazy stuff, though."

"Hands?"

Fox's fingers froze and he turned towards Wolf. "You're clueless, aren't you? They really didn't tell you anything."

Wolf felt his fur bristle a bit at that. "Hey, it's not my fault."

Fox shook his head, saying, "I know, I know." He placed one hand against the wall and the other against his hip, continuing to stare at Wolf.

The lupine tried to look back, but after a few seconds of that he gave up. "What?"

"I think it's time we had a history lesson. You might wanna sit down, save your energy."

"Joy." Wolf didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He crouched and rested his back against the wall, propping up his feet on the floor. Fox was beside him in a matter of seconds, sitting in the same position.

"Okay..." Fox looked over at him, as if he was trying to gauge something, then looked back down at his own feet. "This place is called the—_was_ called the Smash Manor, back when the Hands ran it. Tabuu took over and changed it to Brawler's Haven."

"So..." Wolf paused, feeling rather stupid. "when you say hands, do you mean—"

Fox shrugged. "I don't think anyone's actually seen them. Except maybe Marth, you should ask him sometime. But, anyway, the Hands were in charge of the thing and they sent messages through their staff. Mainly through the Speaker, R.O.B," He paused. "No relation to our ROB, by the way."

Wolf blinked, thrown off a little by the word 'our.' "Yeah, I figured."

"But anyway, this year, that Tabuu guy took over—dunno if he bought it or the Hands got tired and turned it over to him. He's running the entire thing by himself. I hear R.O.B.'s even gonna be in the tournament this year."

"Oh yeah?" Wolf was less listening to the words and more to the tone of Fox's voice.

Fox looked over at him. "Do you know anything about how the battles are fought?"

"Nope."

Fox leaned back against the wall, bringing up a hand to gesture in Wolf's direction. "Well, they'll take you to this room on the ground floor. You'll step into teleporters and be transported to a room like this, only a lot bigger. They'll have already generated a stage and everything. The fighting's a bit different than anything you'd do in a real fight."

At that, Wolf let his gaze wander around the room, bringing both his hands to rest in his lap. Images of the fight from earlier that day tugged at him. He looked at Fox, who was staring off into space, maybe thinking of what to say next. He looked like he was about to open his mouth when Wolf finally said it.

"That was a pretty close match."

There was a moment of hesitation in which Fox just looked back at him, as if he had heard the lupine wrong, but then he laughed, the sound reverberating off the walls. "Nah. He tried to beat me to death. Didn't pay attention to how close I was to the edge. I just had to get him in the right position, and..." He made a flicking gesture with his right hand.

"Oh."

"You need to know what the fights are like so that won't happen to you." Fox stood up and began walking toward the control panel, Wolf's eyes never leaving him. "I was gonna tell you how it works, but it's prolly best if I just show you." He started pushing buttons on the console, pausing to say, "Your first fight's tomorrow, by the way. I checked the schedule for you."

("_find out what the fights are like so that won't happen to you")_

("_I checked the schedule for you.")_

"So you do care..."

The words had leapt out before Wolf had thought of saying them, and as soon as they were out, he wished he could snatch them back again. Fox gave him a cold stare, much like the one he had received at lunch. Wolf felt naked under it, as if the vulpine could read into his darkest thoughts.

_Way to go_, _Wolf_.

When Fox looked away, some of the lightness was gone from his face. "Yeah, I guess I do."

It took a moment for Wolf to attribute the quiet voice to Fox, but the words sent a rush of relief through him.

Fox was looking back at him. "We should be training."

"...yeah... yeah, we should."

* * *

Wolf hadn't thought about how awkward groping around with Fox in such close quarters would be. The thought came to him right as the timer was counting down, and he began to regret agreeing to spar with Fox in the first place.

The chord signaling the start sounded, interrupting his train of thought.

Fox was at the opposite end of the platform from him, his blaster held in front of him, his finger on the trigger, a playful grin on his muzzle. "Come on," he said, "scared of a little blaster?"

There was a shift somewhere in Wolf. The uncertainly and regret washed away, replaced with confidence and the sheer thrill of the fight. Grinning, Wolf whipped out his own blaster and pointed it at Fox. "Who's chicken no—"

But Fox was running straight towards him, arms trailing lightly behind. Wolf squeezed the trigger and shot out a single blast, which Fox dodged. Gritting his teeth, the lupine tucked away the blaster and assumed a fighting stance.

Fox jumped and stuck out his foot, pointed straight towards Wolf's chest. The lupine sidestepped and grabbed onto Fox, slashing him a few times before the vulpine could work himself free.

And then Fox had his blaster out again, shooting at Wolf before he had a chance to react. He could feel the sting—not quite as powerful as it would have been if he wasn't in a simulator, but annoying nonetheless.

Instinct kicked in. Wolf charged, dodging several blaster bolts in the process. Satisfaction surged through him as his claws rent Fox's chest.

The vulpine tried to kick him, but Wolf grabbed the leg and shoved Fox down. In a single, deft motion, Wolf's blaster was out, the gleaming bayonet at Fox's throat.

Fox was panting, his eyes wide. "Okay, I give. You win this one."

Wolf held that pose for a while. He chuckled, then tucked away his blaster. He was sweating and shaking a bit, less from fatigue, more from disbelief. He'd beaten Fox. He was surprised at how giddy that made him feel. The impenetrable wall of McCloud had been breached.

"You up for another?" Fox approached the console again, turning his head over his shoulder to look towards Wolf.

"Sure," he said, giving the snidest look he could muster. "I've gotta give you a chance, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get you this time."

The platforms appeared, and the feminine alto of the computer began counting down. Wolf stepped up to the same starting point as last time and sprang into motion as soon as the countdown reached zero. After a few close grapples, he tackled Fox, sending the vulpine sprawling off the platform, ending the match.

Fox pulled himself up, rubbing his head where it had hit the floor. "Okay, I demand a rematch. That just wasn't fair."

Wolf laughed, enjoying the feeling. "Sure. I'll beat you however many times you like."

In a few seconds, Fox was over at the console again. Wolf climbed on the platform as soon as it appeared, readying himself. When the battle began, Wolf focused more on deflecting Fox's attacks than going on the offensive.

He'd fought the vulpine several times before, but it had never been quite like this. For one, they had been in their ships and had their respective teams to worry about, but there was something else too.

To start with, back then, fighting with Fox was always a case of shoot-down-McCloud-for-a-paycheck. But that wasn't it. He remembered Fox being a force of nature, his face a mask of passion and fury. Yet he always spoke in that same calm, taunting tone, like he was enjoying every second of it.

Deep down, Wolf had enjoyed it too. He rarely got to fight an opponent that challenged him, let alone one that could beat him. But the fights themselves had always been so tense, and he'd often felt like a string stretched too taught, about to break.

But all of that was gone now. There was no tension, no stress, just enjoyment and thrill of the fight. And he was doing a lot better.

_It's because you like him._

_Shut up!_

Wolf's back collided with something hard, knocking the wind out of him. Looking up, he could see Fox grinning down at him from the platform.

"Gotcha."

Wolf grunted, realizing that he'd been knocked off. "I wasn't paying attention."

Fox shook his head, sucking his teeth. "Excuses, excuses."

"Whatever." He avoided looking directly at the vulpine. "I'm tired, can we take a break for a while?"

"Yeah, sure." Fox jumped down from the platform and messed with console again, causing the platform to dissolve into a digital framework and blow away like dust on an old leather tome. Moments later, Fox was sitting beside Wolf again, his legs crossed, leaning against the wall.

"So," Wolf said, running his finger across the floor and making little swirls in the dirt that had collected there, "who am I fighting tomorrow?"

Fox snorted, looking amused, leaning forward and looking at Wolf. "You haven't even looked at the schedule yet, have you?"

"Not really"

Letting out a deep sigh, Fox said, "What would you do without me?"

That made Wolf grin a bit. "I dunno. Learn how to read?"

"You're just making up stuff."

"Maybe."

Fox _hrmphed_, then settled back into his previous position. Wolf almost asked again, but, at the last minute, the vulpine said, "Snake."

Wolf blinked. "_Snake_? Who's that?"

"He's a furless. "I've heard some stories about him."

"Oh yeah? Think it'll be hard?"

Fox shook his head. "Nah. Just pay close attention and you should be fine. He's tricky, likes to lay traps. That's what Ness told me, at least."

"So, where am I supposed to go? What time will it be at?" He felt like he was playing a game of twenty questions.

"It's early, 8:30ish I think. You'll have to check. If you can find me at breakfast tomorrow, I'll show you where to go. I'm sure Marth'll show you if need be, though."

"Alright."

Silence. Wolf looked around the room, unable to find anything interesting to stare at. The ending of their last conversation

_("So you do care...")_

still echoed in his mind, and he was glad that Fox hadn't acknowledged it. Maybe it had been as awkward for Fox as it had been for him?

He made mental note that he wasn't going to be the one to start another conversation, or he'd risk another disaster like had happened last time. He sat there for a while, waiting.

Sounds of movement made him turn his head, and he saw that Fox had stood. "I think I've done enough for tonight. I'm gonna head next door and make sure Marth hasn't murdered Falco yet."

Wolf pressed his hands to the floor and pushed himself to his feet. "Quitting already?"

"I'm just kinda exhausted after that match today, s'all. That's prolly the only reason why you won." He gave a condescending grin.

"Right."

Fox headed toward the door, holding it opened for Wolf. That surprised him a bit, but he didn't complain. When he turned to the right to head into the other room, the vulpine stopped in front of him, and they almost collided.

Fox turned around, looking as if he was unsure. He hesitated before speaking, his voice low. "You know, you should probably go get some rest. It's late. You don't need to be half asleep when you go in, especially against Snake."

Wolf could feel his ears wilting a little at that, and he struggled to pull them back up. "I can stay longer, it won't kill me."

Fox shook his head. "If you really want, you can, but... knowing Marth, he'll be here until midnight. Once you get started with him, it's not easy to stop."

"Oh, well... I guess I should head back before he gets ahold of me then." He was faintly aware of how silly he sounded, but he was too caught up in not saying anything outright stupid to care.

"Well, then.... I'll see you tomorrow. Night."

"Night."

He continued to look at Fox for a second or two longer before making his way out of the training room. He could feel Fox's eyes on him the entire time, and only after reaching the elevator did he feel safe again.

When he got back to his room, he plopped down on the bed. Images and memories of the day danced through his mind. Of one thing he was certain: if things continued the way they were going right now, they were going to drive him crazy. He didn't know whether to blame Fox or himself.

It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying himself so far, or that things were too awkward. In fact, the awkwardness had almost disappeared altogether in the last few hours... which was a complete surprise to him, considering the morning. There was still an awkward moment every now and then, but once it passed it was easy to forget about it. His conversations with Fox were becoming more and more natural.

It was just that...

Wolf didn't know.

He rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut. No, that wasn't true. He knew what it was. He wanted more. That dark part inside of him wanted Fox to _know_, wanted _reciprocation_.

But that didn't make any sense. Fox had offered to help him out, so what was the reasoning behind pushing it? If he went too far and pissed off Fox, and he didn't win the tournament, then there went his chances of ever recovering, ever living a normal life again. And what would he get from _reciprocation_? Nothing.

By logic, the choice was clear: just wait out until the end of the tournament, get Fox's help.

_Use him for his money and throw him away like a tool._

But that wouldn't be right, would it? And since when had Lord Wolf O'Donnell ever cared about _doing the right thing_?

Still, every fiber of his being seemed to be calling him to go for the former, in spite of how outrageous it was. At best, he would gain nothing, at worse, he would lose his only chance at redemption.

So, what to follow: gut or brain? Heart or logic? And even if he followed the former, what was he supposed to do?

Wolf felt like screaming. He wasn't making the situation any better. He looked over at the clock

_(10:32)_

and decided that it would be better if he just forced himself to go to sleep. He wasn't getting anywhere and he probably never would—just arguing circles around himself, confusing and frustrating himself more and more with his disregard for practicality. Rolling over again, he blocked out his thoughts, conjuring up images that lulled him to sleep.

He would make the decision later, when he was in a better state. Right now, it was time for rest.


	4. Chapter 4: Choice

_A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted _

_Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; _

_A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted _

_With shifting change, as is false women's fashion; _

_An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, _

_Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; _

_A man in hue, all 'hues' in his controlling, _

_Much steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth. _

_And for a woman wert thou first created; _

_Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, _

_And by addition me of thee defeated, _

_By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. _

_But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure, _

_Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure._

_(William Shakespeare, sonnet 20)  
_

_

* * *

_Wolf stared at his empty tray, drumming his fingers on the table. A glance down at the communicator on his wrist told him that it was _8:32. _He'd give it a few more minutes, then he'd have to go. He'd probably come too late.

Glancing over at his side, he could see Marth looking at him. "Ten minutes," the prince said.

"Thirteen minutes."

"Same thing."

Wolf alternated between staring at his tray and staring at the entrance, picking up his spork every once in a while to jab at some kind of green crap the cafeteria workers called food. He glanced down again:

_8:34_

Growling, he threw his spork onto his tray, then picked the tray up. "I'll be right back." He made his way over to the trash can, frowning. Fox had said he'd be here, so why hadn't be shown up yet?

Once he'd dumped his tray, he walked back over to the table, sitting down and keeping his eyes trained on the entrance. He looked at his communicator again.

"You know, time's going to continue moving at the same speed no matter how many times you check it."

Wolf felt his ears go down. "Gee, I never woulda figured that out, Prince He-who-points-out-the-obvious."

Marth shrugged, then craned his neck, pointing. "Hey, there he is."

Wolf's head snapped to the entryway. Fox and Falco were approaching them, jabbering to each other about something. As usual.

He wondered what it would be like to speak to Fox like that on a day-to-day basis. To be on the same team as him, to be his friend, to _room_ with him...

Wolf realized with a pang of guilt that maybe that was why he had always hated Falco so much. Maybe he had been jealous of the bird—his free life, his popularity, and his interactions with Fox. Maybe he—

"Hellooooo?" A golden-furred hand appeared in front of his face, and he gave a start when he realized that it was Fox's.

"Err..." He fumbled for something to say that wouldn't make him seem like as big an idiot as he felt he was. "You're late."

"I'm not late for anything. _You're_ the one who has a match in five minutes. Besides," Fox said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "it's all Falco's fault."

"Well then maybe we should get going? And it's always Falco's fault, according to you."

"You don't have to be in a big rush. The only reason they want you there ahead of time is to make sure you aren't late. None of the matches ever start on time. And it really _was _Falco's fault this time," he said, frowning. "He had to get ready for his match."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Falco fights today?"

"Yeah, exactly. At 11:30. The knucklehead didn't even look at the schedule until this morning."

"Sucks for you." He couldn't help feeling a bit of satisfaction over Fox looking at the schedule for him but not for Falco.

"So, uhh..." Fox was looking away, unmoving as he spoke, "you want to come watch the match with me?"

Trying to mask his surprise, Wolf answered in what he hoped was the same smooth tone Fox had used. "I guess."

"Okay then," Fox said, his fingertips drumming the table in the same manner as Wolf's had minutes earlier. A sign of nervousness, perhaps?

Satisfied with the outcome of the conversation and not really wanting to screw everything up now, Wolf turned his attention elsewhere. Falco and Marth were a couple of seats down. They were chatting about something, but he couldn't make out the words. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were talking about him, assessing him, betting on him.

He closed his eyes and sucked in a slow, steady breath. He hadn't realized until just then exactly how much was riding on this one match. "I think I should get going." He sent Fox an expectant look.

There was a brief pause before Fox spoke. "Yeah, okay. Come on." He stood and took a few tentative steps towards the exit.

"What about them?" Wolf pointed at the others, who were still talking, oblivious to his and Fox's movement.

"Don't worry about them. Marth'll catch up, and Falco's going to eat breakfast anyway."

"Alright. Lead the way."

He trailed behind Fox, not really paying attention to where he was going, his eyes once again following the swishing of the vulpine's tail. Fox went down the stairs, saying that it was quicker that way. Not long after they left the stairwell, Fox stopped in front of him, forcing him to take a stutter step to keep his balance.

He was in a long, wide hall, similar to the ones in the rooming floors. The lights here were dimmer, and there were only three doors: one at each end of the hall, and the one they had just entered by, in the center of it.

Fox had turned around and was facing him. "It's that way." He pointed to Wolf's left. "Just go in there and they'll tell you what to do."

"Alright." He started off toward the end of the hall, but stopped after a few steps, turning around. Fox had touched him on the shoulder.

"Good luck. I'll be watching."

Wolf stood there, unable to move for a few seconds. He could feel himself trembling. "Thanks," he said. "I'll be sure to win."

Swallowing, he set off down the hall at a pace a bit brisker than was necessary, feeling eyes on his back.

* * *

Wolf could already tell that it was much different viewing a match from the combatant's perspective. As soon as he had entered the room, an attendant had walked up to him and led him in the center of a circular, dome-like machine, which hummed to life as he entered. There was a small screen directly in front of him, and on it, a countdown timer appeared, measuring ten seconds, unmoving.

He swallowed. He had never considered the number "10" to be as nerve-wracking as it was now.

_("I'll be sure to win_.")

The timer jumped down to "9," causing Wolf to start. The machine's hum crescendoed until it blocked out everything else.

_6... 5... 4..._

And it was gone. He was standing on a platform, a few meters across from his opponent, who he assumed was Snake.

A loud voice boomed, "Begin!" Snake pulled out a spherical device, making a deft movement with it before throwing it at Wolf.

Recognizing the thing as an old-fashioned explosive, Wolf reached to his hip, his fingers brushing the activation button of his reflector. He waited for the explosive to get into range before jamming the button.

A red wave of energy radiated out from him, colliding with the explosive and sending it flying back. It exploded in a shower of flames and shrapnel, the smoke obscuring Wolf's vision.

He pulled out his blaster and aimed it into the smoke. When it cleared—

Snake was gone. Wolf panicked, spinning around, looking for the man.

He was gone.

Wolf relaxed the grip on his blaster, clipping it back in its place. Had he won? No, that couldn't be it. The match was still going on. He'd seen how the others ended and this didn't look anything like it.

Footsteps.

At first, he'd thought that his ears were fooling him. He stood deathly still, straining his ears for any hints of noise.

Yes, those were footsteps. They were behind him... a couple of feet, he guessed. Snake had gone invisible somehow, and he was doing his best to sneak up on Wolf.

The lupine continued to stand there, trying not to give himself away. He calculated the distance between Snake and himself, making measurements inside his head. Just a few more seconds, and...

Wolf tore the blaster out, whirled around, and stabbed in Snake's direction. The blade met something. He grinned.

A man-shaped blob appeared in front of him, staggering backwards, resembling Snake more and more with each passing second.

Wolf squeezed the trigger, and the blaster released a burst of energy, colliding with Snake, knocking him back. Snake recovered by shifting into a backwards acrobatic flip and kneeling, as if he was waiting for something.

Sheathing the blaster, Wolf darted forward, snarling, extending his claws. He brought up an arm, and—

There was an explosion in front of him, sending him flying backwards. He landed on his back, and was in the process of getting up when he noticed:

Snake was standing at his full height now, a small mechanical device held in his hand. There was what looked to be a single button on it.

Wolf scrambled, his claws scraping against the platform.

An explosion erupted underneath him, launching him into the air. He flew for a few seconds, unable to control himself, then looked down in time to see another one of the explosives flying towards him. He barely had enough time to reach down and press the button for his reflector. But as soon as the red waved touched the thing, it exploded.

It knocked Wolf down and backwards, and his impact with the platform hurt even through the arena's technology. He was only about a foot or so from the edge, and... and there was a missile heading straight for him.

He got up and ran to the right, cursing when it swerved to follow him. He pulled out his blaster and fired at it. It took him three shots to explode it, and the force of the explosion still reached him, causing him to stumble. When he recovered, his head darted around the arena.

Snake was gone again.

Wolf growled, his heart beating at a hundred eighty beats a minute. How was this even fair?

Taking in a deep breath, he looked down at his communicator. He'd used up most of the blaster and reflector's energy, and it would take them a minute or two to recharge. He could probably squeeze one last discharge from the reflector.

He stood still and closed his eyes, listening. He could count on Snake being more difficult to detect this time.

_*snick*_

It was faint, and Wolf tried to give no indication that he'd heard it. He could pinpoint its location, and he tucked the knowledge away for future reference.

He had an idea.

Wolf could hear the footsteps again. They were slow and quiet, but definitely there. He gauged the distance, resisting the urge to grit his teeth, forcing himself to remain deathly still.

When he was sure Snake was in range, he slammed his finger on the switch for his reflector. Its remaining energy radiated out in a single red pulse, colliding with Snake and phasing out his camouflage, tracing him with beams of bright red.

Wolf grappled with Snake, tearing through pieces of the suit with his claws. Wolf was aware that as soon as the man recovered from the reflector's shock, he would be much more than the lupine could deal with. He groped for a few more seconds before snatching away the object of his pursuit.

Wolf wrapped his arms around Snake and threw him, and, before the man had a chance to recover, rammed into him, sending him sprawling backwards.

_Perfect._

Grinning, Wolf pulled it out. It was the same detonator Snake had used on him.

Wolf pressed the button. Snake seemed to explode. The man went flying backwards, over the edge of the stage.

Wolf drew in a deep breath, then let it come rushing out in a sigh.

Wait, what was that? That whirring noise...

Snake appeared, still offstage, holding on to a disk of some sort. Whatever it was, it was making him fly upwards, and he was headed back towards the stage.

Wolf took out his blaster and shot at the disk, missing as Snake swerved to the right. Gritting his teeth, Wolf shot again, missing again.

Glancing down at his communicator, he saw that he had one shot left. On the bright side, Snake's dodging had kept him from getting back on the stage, but Wolf only had one shot. And if he missed, he lost.

Wolf took aim, going out a little to the right to compensate in case the man tried to dodge again. He squeezed the trigger and held his breath.

The laser collided with the disk, causing it to freeze. Snake let go, leaning toward the stage.

He was going to make it.

Wolf cursed himself. Trembling, he began unscrewing the bayonet from his blaster. A few good turns on the nut and it came off. He didn't have time to aim—he just threw it and prayed that it hit.

The world appeared to be moving in slow motion. The blade gleamed as it spun through the air, spiraling towards Snake.

It was a perfect hit. The bayonet slammed into Snake's chest and ricocheted back off, landing on the platform with a sharp _clang_.

Snake began falling. He thrust his arm out to clutch at the edge, but he was too far away.

Wolf walked to the edge, staring. There were no platforms below this, nothing to break Snake's fall—just a black void, an abyss that seemed to swallow him. The man looked so pathetic, so hopeless, so scared.

Wolf shuddered, his heart pounding at one hundred eighty beats per minute.

That could have been him. It could have been Fox. Could have been anyone. All it would take is a slip-up, or a lucky shot by a guy like him, and they'd be gone forever.

Moments later, Wolf was inside the teleportation machine again, the attendant rushing up to meet him. The guy was jabbering about something, but Wolf wasn't listening. He had brought a hand up and was running it through his head fur, his mind elsewhere.

* * *

When Wolf exited the contestant's hall, he recognized the adjoining room as the main chamber, where the front door of the mansion was. Looking around, he could see that either Snake had beaten him out, or he was still cooped up in the other room. After a few minutes, people began trickling in. Wolf caught snippets of their conversation, ranging from disbelief to outrage to contentment over the results of the match.

There he was—Fox had just entered, and was strolling up to Wolf.

"Hey, congrats. That was a really good fight."

"Thanks." He looked down at his feet, shuffling them back and forth. "I haven't seen stuff that old in so long that I didn't know what to do at first..."

"He was good, though. And I've never seen a camouflage suit like that before."

"He was alright," Wolf said, even though he knew Snake was a much better fighter than he was.

There was a brief silence. "Well," Fox said, "we have about twenty minutes before Falco's match starts. You wanna go ahead and head up there?"

"I guess."

"Come on, let's take the stairs."

Wolf did as Fox bade, this time running up to walk beside the vulpine. "Who's Falco fighting?"

"Ice Climbers. It shouldn't be a really difficult match."

Wolf nodded as if he knew who the Ice Climbers were. "So I guess we've been getting pretty lucky so far."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, we haven't fought anybody really difficult yet. All it'll take is one match to get knocked out..."

"Don't worry about it." They had entered the stairwell now. "It'll just make things worse. Snake was good, though. No offense, but I think you won that one by luck."

Snorting, Wolf said, "No luck involved. He wasn't expecting to have to fight someone like me."

Fox laughed. "Yeah, right."

"It's true. Most people wouldn't have been able to hear him while he was sneaking around like that."

"I suppose... still," Fox said, pausing to open the door that led out of the stairwell, "you're right. It's only a matter of time until one of us fights someone like Marth."

Wolf emerged into the hall, now knowing where he was going. "Is he really that good?"

"He's pretty amazing. Won the tournament last year, actually. I fought against him for the championship, and I could barely touch him."

"Well... you suck." They had entered the lounge now, which was empty except for a handful of people.

"We'll see who really sucks in the end." Fox's head darted from side to side before he pointed to the right, in one of the middle rows of chairs. "Let's go over there."

Wolf nodded, staying close behind Fox. He sat down beside the vulpine, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling.

After a few minutes of staring at the same empty patch of white and deciding that there was nothing particularly interesting about it, he turned to see what Fox was doing. The vulpine was leaning over, staring into his communicator, pressing buttons. Maybe he was playing a game of some sorts? Wolf couldn't tell. He brought up his arm and eyed his communicator.

That gave him an idea.

"So," he said, pronouncing every syllable to himself before he said it in, "what happens when someone gets eliminated?"

There was a pause before Fox looked up, returning the hand with the communicator strapped to it to the armrest. "They get shipped back."

"As in, back to where they came?"

"Yeah. I dunno why. I always thought it was kind of silly to be sent away before you knew the results of the thing, you know?"

"Yeah... so, uhh...." Wolf hesitated, staring down at his feet. "If one of us loses, what happens?"

Wolf could feel Fox's eyes on him.

"I don't know. That's...." There was the sound of shifting movement. "That's a good question. I hadn't thought of that."

Silence.

Wolf looked up, almost making eye contact with Fox, hoping that this wouldn't sound as stupid as it did when he imagined himself saying it. "Why don't you give me your number?"

Fox twitched, then corrected himself so he looked like he had done it on purpose.

"I mean—so that we don't lose touch if one of us fights Marth or something."

Fox looked down at his communicator. "Yeah, I guess that's a pretty good idea."

"Alright. My number's _4–294–967–296_."

There was the beeping noise as Fox navigated with the touch screen, the snapping of keys as he entered in the information. "Whoa there, slow down. Say it again?"

"_4–294–967–296._" He pronounced each number separately.

"Alright. Mine's... gimme a minute." He fiddled with the touch screen for a little while.

Wolf chuckled. "Don't even know your own number?"

Fox gave him a half-lidded stare before returning to the screen. "Shut it." A few seconds of beeping ensued before Fox said, "It's _2–147–483–648_."

Wolf entered the numbers as Fox called them out, hitting the confirmation button on his touch screen with a bit of satisfaction. That had been a lot less painful than he'd thought it would be.

Fox let out a bark of laughter. "Heh..."

Wolf looked over at Fox, who had a bemused grin on his muzzle.

"You know, it's kind of funny."

"Why's that?"

"A couple of years ago we were trying to kill each other every chance we got. Now, we're exchanging phone numbers."

Wolf felt a flush creeping up, and he did his best to fight it.

The room was a bit louder now. Several people had entered the room. That self-absorbed, holier-than-thou woman—Wolf thought her name started with a "Z" or something—had sat in front of him. The green man was beside her.

"It should start soon," Fox said. "Just a couple minutes."

Wolf reclined in his seat again, sweeping his eye across the room . He was surprised at how many of the Brawlers actually went to these matches. He figured that some of the smarter ones would take advantage of this time to go train...

The room had gone quiet. Looking at the screen, Wolf could see that Tabuu had appeared. After a couple of minutes of listening to the man chatter on about some pointless crap that nobody cared about, the timer appeared. When the combatants appeared, Falco appeared on one end of the platform, and two children in fur coats on the other.

Wolf tapped Fox on the shoulder. "Isn't that unfair?"

"Eh?" The vulpine's head darted over to Wolf and tilted to the side until it was almost diagonal, which Wolf found funny.

"There's two of them..."

Fox shook his head. "They always enter as one contestant. If you put them alone, it wouldn't be fair to them."

"Why's that?"

"They're just... it's kind of like they're two parts of the same person. It's hard to explain."

"Whatever." Wolf looked back to the screen. He found his eyes tracing Falco's movements, not because he was interested in the bird, but because Falco fought like Fox, and it was entertaining to point out the differences.

He wasn't sure how long the fight lasted, though he could be sure that it was much longer than any other fight he'd seen. It was obvious that Falco was going to win after the first ten minutes or so, but the Ice Climbers wouldn't give him a chance. They had amazing defense and recovery, but horrible offense. It became nothing but a stalling game, the Climbers delaying their defeat as much as possible, perhaps hoping that Falco would give up.

Wolf leaned back in his seat, and, before long, his eyes had closed. He hadn't realized how tired he'd been—the match must've taken a lot out of him. More than he'd thought.

The sounds of the combatants died down until they were just a faint whisper in the background. The world became dim and distorted, and foggy images appeared in his mind's eye. He wasn't sure if he ever fell asleep or if he was just suspended in a state of half-sleep.

"Wolf." Someone touched his shoulder.

He jumped, grunting, reaching up to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. "Wha..."

"You fall asleep?"

Wolf looked over in the direction of the voice, and, seeing Fox, he shrugged. "Is it over yet?"

"Yeah." It was then that Wolf noticed the escalating noise as people got up and made their way out. "Falco won."

"No surprise." Wolf stood up, squinting. The lights were hurting his eyes, even though they weren't that bright.

"I'm gonna go meet Falco downstairs. You coming?"

Wolf winced. "I don't think so."

Fox frowned, shaking his head. "Are you scared of him or something?"

Wolf growled in mock anger. "Me? Scared of him? That's _absurd._" He crossed his arms. "I just wanna get to lunch."

"I was just asking, there's no reason to get touchy."

"Touchy..." He _hrmphed_ and stared at Fox, unblinking. Fox returned the stare, and kept it up for a few seconds before looking away, blinking.

"I win," Wolf said, feeling the corners of his mouth lift up a bit.

"Okay, fine, have it your way." He sounded as is he was trying to conceal amusement. "I'm leaving. Later."

Wolf brought up his arm and looked at the communicator, checking to make sure that he'd saved the number. When he put it down, his eyes trailed the vulpine as he joined the crowd that was filing out of the lounge.

* * *

Wolf sat alone at the table. He wasn't sure what the stuff on his plate was, but it was good nonetheless. Either that or he was too distracted to notice how bad it was.

He couldn't figure out why he still felt so empty. He'd gotten Fox's number, so what was the issue?

People were steadily piling into the cafeteria now, and the noise was getting on his nerves. Figures, he thought, since the match ended about thirty minutes before the cafeteria closed. There was the dull clack of a tray in front of him, and he looked up to see Marth, his cape swirling as he sat down.

"Congratulations on winning. That was a good fight."

"Hm?" It took the words a while to register. "Oh yeah... thanks, I guess."

"Don't be so pessimistic. You know, several people have already been shipped back."

"I know." Wolf started to say something else, but decided against it, turning back on his tray. A few seconds later, there was the clatter of trays again. Fox had sat down beside Wolf, and Falco beside Marth.

"If I have another fight like that," Falco was saying, "I'm just gonna give up."

"It wasn't that bad," Marth said.

Falco snorted. "Ha, says you."

"They should have some kind of time limit," Fox said. "You made poor Wolf fall asleep." He pointed a finger in the lupine's direction.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." Falco glared at Wolf.

"What? I can't help it that you suck." Wolf picked up his spork and took another stab at the entrée. He held the sporked entrée up and pointed it towards Falco, making motions with it as he spoke. "Takes you an hour to beat a bunch of little kids." He popped it into his mouth and began chewing with a little more force than was necessary, enjoying the growing look of frustration on the bird's face. "Kinda sad."

"Guys, let's save the fighting for the arena, okay?" That was Marth, glaring at Wolf, then turning to glare at the bird. There was an eerie silence, in which Wolf picked at the entrée with his spork again, moving it around the little compartment it sat in.

Fox broke the silence, saying, "Why don't we go train again tonight?"

"I'm up for it," Marth said, bringing up a napkin to dab at his mouth. "I think last night worked out pretty well."

Falco sighed. "Fox is gonna drag me into it no matter what I say, so I might as well go ahead and say yes."

Wolf continued to stare down at his plate. "I think I'm gonna sit this one out."

Falco laughed. "What's the matter, scared of—"

"Shut it, birdie. I'm just too tired." Picking up his tray, he got to his feet. "I'm gonna go back to the room and get some shut-eye." He had only taken a few steps before Fox popped up beside him.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure you don't want to go with us?"

Wolf looked back at the vulpine, frowning. No matter how he looked at it, it would be a colossal waste of time and energy. "Yeah. I'm sure."

"Okay." He paused, looking indecisive. "Listen, if there's ever anything bugging you, you can always talk to me."

"I'm_ fine_," Wolf said. Feeling a little bad about how that sounded, he added, "I just need some rest, okay?"

"Alright." Fox hesitated. "'Night. Hope you feel better." He placed a hand on Wolf's shoulder.

Wolf's fur stiffened at the contact, and he looked away, biting his lip. "Yeah..." Fox's hand was gone a second later, much sooner than Wolf would've hoped for.

His eyes followed the vulpine until he sat back down at the table. Wolf slowly made his way over to the trash can, letting the remnants of his meal slide off into it.

* * *

Wolf was splayed out on his bed, his eyes shut. Marth had stuck his nose in the book again and hadn't said a word—probably wouldn't even notice if the mansion exploded and shot him twenty feet in the air. Wolf was aware that he had been laying there for at least an hour, and he was becoming a bit frustrated with his inability to fall asleep.

His mind just wouldn't shut up. Every time he'd think he was about to drift off, the golden silhouette of Fox would appear and jolt him back to reality, and that would set off another chain of thoughts.

Convinced that he was unable to force himself to fall asleep, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Gods, but he was tired. Not like he could do anything about it in his current state, though.

He dangled his feet off the side of the bed and stretched, his shoulders giving a few pops. Getting up, he sent a glance over in Marth's direction.

"I'm goin out for a walk."

Marth didn't make any acknowledgement, just kept staring at the book—he always looked so damn enthralled when he was reading. Getting through to him was like trying to punch through an iron wall. Wolf shrugged, starting towards the door.

He had his hand on the door handle when Marth called. "Wolf."

Turning around, he loosened his grip. "What?"

The prince closed the book, marking his place with a finger. "Is there something bothering you?"

"Why do you care?" He had let go of the door handle, and was leaning against it, his weight on one leg.

"You're my roommate. What bothers you is going to eventually get at me, too... and... I can't stand to see someone suffering if there's something I can do to help. So tell me—what's wrong?"

Part of Wolf knew that he would feel better if he let it all out, that telling Marth would be just as informative to him as it would be to the prince.

Yes, that was it. He had to tell someone. But, no, he couldn't tell Marth. He didn't know enough about the way Marth's culture was, and being stuck in a room with a man who wanted to kill him wasn't all that appealing.

Who, then? Fox?

He blinked, feeling stupid for even thinking that. There was nobody he could tell—not safely, at least. He needed some time to clear his head.

"I'm going for a walk," he said again, trying to sound final.

He grasped the handle and opened the door, stepping into the dim hall. He wasn't even sure where he was going: it was like his legs had minds of their own.

He was in a tough situation, faced with a much harder dilemma than he'd ever had to face on the battlefield.

He had to know. He was tired of the what-ifs, tired of the hoping, tired of being afraid.

But Fox was the only one who could help him right now, in the financial sense at least. If he screwed up with the vulpine and didn't win the tournament, then it was back to his old life. Back to the hellhole they called the Lylat System. Even if he did do it, though, wouldn't it be strange? With another guy?

He wasn't even sure what "it" was—he'd never _dated_ anybody before... what did people do? Talk small talk and pretend that it's all not a game to make it less awkward when they end up in bed together?

_Whoa, slow down._ He didn't even know where that came from . He certainly wouldn't think about anything like that with Fox. Or would he? _Did_ he?

He shook his head. He was just confusing and

(exciting)

grossing himself out more and more.

It hit him at that moment how desperately he needed to talk to somebody. Somebody with experience, somebody who wouldn't hate him, somebody who'd keep his mouth shut. He needed to know whether it was worth the risk or not, and, if it was, what he should do. He knew that if he wasn't so desperate, he'd be hating himself for even considering talking to somebody else about something that private.

But who? He only knew three people in the entire mansion, and could only really talk with two of them: Fox and Marth. They'd both offered to help, but... he couldn't talk to Fox about Fox. That would defeat the purpose.

Marth was his only option, then. Still, he couldn't help being a little afraid of how the prince might react. It wasn't as if Wolf had any other option, though. Marth was his only choice, and if the prince murdered him on charges of homosexuality, then at least he wouldn't have to worry about this mess anymore.

He would do it then. He would

(come out)

confess to Marth. But he was too tired to do it now. It would have to wait until later.

The moment he made that resolution, he felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He realized that he should be getting back to his room, that Marth was probably looking for him if he hadn't already left.

Looking around, he tried to figure out where he was at. All around him was darkness, save straight behind him, were a dim shaft of light shone through the open doorway to... wherever he had just came from.

A chill passed through him, creeping through his spine, numbing his body, causing him to hug his arms together.

Wherever he was, he didn't like it. He had this eerie feeling that he was being watched. He knew he should go back, but something kept him rooted to the ground, staring into the darkness.

A pair of ominous, blood-red eyes stared back at him.

He jumped. They'd appeared out of nowhere. He searched around them, trying to find out who it was they belonged to. At first, he thought it might be Snake, but, the more his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the surer he was that it wasn't a smasher.

Wolf's fur bristled.

The figure was blacker than the darkness, looming only a few feet away, and—and _it was getting closer_.

Wolf ran. He ran straight through the doorway and kept going until he had passed several rooms, but the feeling of being watched persisted. He risked turning around to look, half expecting to see a phantom reaching for his throat.

Nothing.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, then realized that he knew where he was at:

The cafeteria.

He blinked. He must have been hallucinating. He was too tired, and the fatigue had made his mind go crazy. Maybe he'd fallen asleep while standing up and had a nightmare or something. What could _he _be afraid of in the real world, anyway? Nothing _real _could make him react like that.

He needed rest. He would go back to the room and sleep, setting an alarm for 11:00. That way, when Marth got back from the training session, he would be waiting.

The time for action was drawing near.

The alarm buzzed to life beside Wolf. He reached a hand out and slammed the snooze button, laying there for a moments before dragging himself up. He stretched, yawned, then went into the bathroom to take a leak.

He took more time than was necessary in the bathroom, pausing to stare at himself at the mirror, which was something that he hadn't done since he'd got here, and that he hardly ever did back at home. He knew the Wolf staring back at him... or he'd thought he did. Now, though, it was apparent that he knew nothing about the guy.

He walked back into the room and sat on the bed, his legs dangling off the side. He brought his communicator up to eye level, staring at the time display.

_11:12..._

Marth should be back any minute. Wolf stared at the door for a while before returning to his communicator, digging through the short list of numbers, pausing once he reached Fox's. He let the cursor hover over it for a while before lying back on the bed, eyes drifting up towards the ceiling.

Wolf wasn't sure how long he lay there. The sound of the door flying open made him spring up to an upright position.

Marth had just entered, and was easing the door shut when Wolf forced himself to speak before he could think better of it. "Marth, I need to talk to you."

The prince faced Wolf, leaning back on the door. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was. But I woke up, I was gonna..." Wolf trailed off, recognizing his own attempt at stalling. "Look, man, we need to talk."

"What's been bothering you?"

"I—" Wolf grimaced. "That's what this is about!"

"I know," Marth said, his tone so calm it was infuriating. "That's why I asked. You don't have to get upset, just tell me."

"Okay." Wolf gritted his teeth. "First, you have to promise me something."

"I'm listening."

"One: don't think any different about me because of what I'm about to say. That means, no turning against me, no wanting to kill me, none of that crap, okay?"

A few seconds passed before Marth bobbed his head. "Alright."

"And second: don't you _ever _tell_ anybody _anything I say." Wolf pronounced each syllable like it was a dagger that he was trying to shove through a three–inch thick sheet of metal. "I don't care if it's your best friend, don't tell _anybody_, okay?"

"Okay. I can respect your privacy."

"No, swear it."

Marth looked a little surprised by that. "I swear. I won't discuss this conversation with anyone."

"Good, then." He took a deep breath, letting it all out in a wheeze. Now that he'd gotten this far, he wasn't sure how to approach the subject.

(_Hi, Marth, I'm gay for Fox, should I steal his money or his virginity?)_

He decided to start with something simple. "Well, you know Fox, right?"

"Mmhm."

"Well, uhh..." Wolf's claws had worked their way out and he found himself twiddling them back and forth. "I have a problem with him."

"What's the issue? I thought you and he were friends."

Wolf remained silent, already too embarrassed to go on.

"Well? You two have been together a lot recently..." He paused, then made a quick motion with his head as if he'd thought of something clever. "Was there a fight over something?"

"No," Wolf said, unable to look at the prince, "it's kinda the opposite."

From the corner of his eye, Wolf could see Marth staring at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." Wolf felt so dumb. "I guess I kinda like him." Feeling that his words weren't enough, he added in, "A lot."

There. He'd said it. He looked up at Marth to see that the prince was still looking at him with that same expression.

"So... when you say like, do you mean..."

"Goddammit, Marth, do I have to spell it out for you?" Wolf gave the prince his best this-is-already-embarrassing-enough-without-you-forcing-me-to-admit-my-faggotry look.

Marth brought up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, his eyebrows rising. "Sorry, this isn't really what I was expecting... especially not from _you_, of all people."

"Do you think _I_ expected it?"

The prince frowned. "Wolf, I don't know anything about you or your culture. Back where I'm from, this kind of stuff... it just doesn't happen."

Wolf's fur bristled. "Hey, don't start getting—"

"I'm not." He paused, sitting up on the edge of his bed. "Look, I can see that that is a pretty big deal to you, and I want to help. But you haven't even told me what the problem is, or how I can help with it. Can you explain it to me?"

"Do I have to?"

"It's up to you. I'll hold my word, though."

Wolf rested his chin in his hand. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice—he'd dragged himself in this far, and it wouldn't do him any good to pull away now He took a few seconds to consider the breadth of what he would have to tell Marth, and how pathetic he was for doing all this, before saying, "Okay."

And so Wolf told him. He started from the beginning, recounting his rivalry with Fox; how he had ended up on the losing side of the Lylat Wars, and got a bounty placed on his head because of it; how he had lost his temper with _her_ and royally screwed up his life in the aftermath; and of his meeting with Fox at the tournament and all his subsequent experiences with the vulpine.

Marth had been quiet for some time, sitting there with that same thoughtful look on his face. "This is quite a lot to take in."

"I'm still trying to understand it myself."

"From what you're telling me... you know, you said Fox had always been your rival, and even enemy at one point. Maybe this is just a different approach?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe this is all just a game to him. Trying to get you to make an even bigger fool of yourself. Think about it: first, he tried to kill you; then he was involved with that girl, which caused you to lose your temper with your teammates; now, he's doing this."

Wolf shook his head. "No, that's not Fox. He'd never do that."

"How can you be sure? You've hardly even talked to him."

Wolf growled. "I know what he's like, okay? He just wouldn't do something like that. I'm sure."

The prince looked like he was about to make another comment, but he sighed and looked away. "Wolf, tell me: what do you want?"

"Uh... well..." That was a complicated question to answer.

"Come on. No matter what you say, I won't hold it against you. You don't have to be afraid."

"I'm not _afraid_."

"Tell me, then."

Wolf took in a deep breath, letting it out as slowly as possible to bide himself time. "I want..." He grunted. "I just want all this mess to be over with!"

Marth glared at him. "Wolf..."

"Okay, okay..." He stared at the ground, already hating himself for what he was about to say. "I want this off my chest. I want Fox to know."

Marth continued to sit there, unmoving, as if he expected more.

Wolf continued. "I want Fox to know. And..." He was playing with his claws again. "I guess it'd be kinda cool if he, y'know, returned the feelings."

"I don't see what the problem is, then," Marth said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Tell him."

"Hell, no—are you nuts?"

"What are you worried about?"

"That he'll freak out and never speak to me again. And that when I lose here I'll just be send back."

"Everything has a cost," Marth said. "You're going to have to give up one thing or the other. You might as well go for the one you want the most."

"I said I wanted it, not needed it," Wolf said, still unsure of what _it_ was. "It's too risky, and there's no benefits."

"Are you saying that happiness isn't a benefit?"

That stunned Wolf. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times, trying to think of a sensible reply.

Marth continued. "Where I'm from, nobody really has that much of a choice over who they marry, especially wealthy people. They marry in such a way that the union will benefit their family or country. Many people end up marrying people they hate, and are forced to have children with them, and they can't like anybody else, because that would be polygamous."

Marth paused, fixating his gaze on Wolf. "Yet here, you have all the freedom in the world, freedom even to love another man. And you aren't willing to exercise it."

Wolf's ears went down. "Hey, nobody said anything above _love_."

"You're missing the point."

Wolf grunted, crossing his arms. "What would _you_ do, then?"

"It's not about me. But if it was..." Marth paused. "I would tell Fox."

"_Why_? He's definitely not gay, he had Krystal. And I'm not either." The last sentence came out defensively, like an afterthought.

"You'll never know until you try, right? His relationship with Krystal obviously didn't work out well, so that's something to build on."

Wolf was quiet, his eyes returning to the floor. "Well... I dunno..."

"What do you want out of me?" Even though the words were quiet, the question seemed extremely loud, shattering the air.

Wolf had no idea how to respond to that, or how the question even made sense.

"Do you want me to yell at you for thinking these things about Fox?"

"Why would I—"

"At first, you acted like you were ashamed of yourself, looking down like you were expecting some sort of punishment. I tried to tell you not to get involved with him, but you argued against me without hardly giving any thought to it. It's been obvious from the start that, whether you knew it or not, you've wanted to tell him. And then you admitted it..."

Wolf found that his vocal chords couldn't function.

"I'm not going to yell at you. I can't sympathize with you, but I think that your happiness is more important than my discomfort. Can I get your permission to speak freely?"

The lupine swallowed, then nodded his head.

"From what you've told me, I can see that you are a pragmatist."

Wolf snorted. "Like I know that means."

"It means that you make decisions based on the practical value of their results. If you were offered a choice between eternal life or a single, peaceful lifetime, you would choose eternal life."

"What's your point? Living beats dying."

Marth shook his head. "Living _well_ beats dying. A morbid life where you must witness every one of your friends and children die over and over again is far worse than death. Practicality, like wealth, does not bring happiness. From what you've said..." He made eye contact with Wolf. "You've been overlooking that your entire life, and look where it's gotten you."

It took a few seconds for the full effect of Marth's words to set in. Wolf hated everything about them, but the worst part was what they were so _true_. The implications of what Marth had said loomed overhead. He'd thought about similar things before, but now, it was time to get them out.

"So, you're suggesting that I... you know... with another guy? Isn't that against nature or something? I mean, should I really..."

Marth sighed, shaking his head. "You're dead-bent on losing this argument aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Here—" Marth reached behind him, producing the book he had been reading earlier. "The Goddess gave us voices with which to communicate, and animals for company and food. This book breaks the laws of nature by allowing the author to tell me a story by never speaking, doing so using the skin of animals in a most unintended way."

"Uhh..." Wolf had never thought of it that way.

"The clothes you wear—" Marth pointed, looking as if he were explaining a concept learned in kindergarten. "They are not natural. You have fur for that purpose. We should all be running around nude if we were going to go with nature's wishes—but doing so is against our laws. The laws of society themselves are unnatural. People are quick to point out what is unnatural when it goes against them, but tolerate it when it is for them."

Wolf stuttered. "I guess..."

"By nature, we are unnatural beings. Therefore, anything that we could truly consider unnatural is not possible. If something can happen, it is a part of nature."

Wolf couldn't argue with that. "Okay, you got me. But, then, how would I tell him?"

"You just won't give up, will you?"

Wolf leaned back on the bed. "Will you answer my question?"

"Okay, fine. Telling him... you don't have to be obvious about it, and you don't have to do it right now. These things usually take time." Marth snapped his fingers. "Hey, I've got it—you should ask him out to dinner. ."

Wolf had to fight the urge to grin. He sat up, looking at Marth. "That's it?"

Marth chuckled. "I knew I'd get you eventually."

Wolf brought up a hand and began scratching at his ears. "Well, I..."

"Come on. It's safe, at least—you've done it before. If it works out well, maybe something will happen."

Wolf hesitated. It would be simple, and he already knew what to expect... maybe this time he could take a risk or two, or maybe just go with the flow of what Fox did if it turned out that the vulpine was in the same predicament he was. Marth had said that, back where he was from, things like this didn't happen. Maybe, then, if Wolf made a move on Fox—not a really big one—and the vulpine didn't respond, then he wasn't interested. But if Fox acknowledged it, or even returned it, then...

Yes, that was all it would take. Just one simple hint. There wasn't much risk involved, and, come to think of it, he never had that much to lose in the first place.

"Okay," Wolf said. "I'll do it. I'll take the risk."


	5. Chapter 5: Consequence

I didn't actually spend too long on this. Well, okay, that's a lie, it was more of an on-and-off process for this chapter, the brunt of it spread out.

Future chapters will be shorter. I've already started working on the next chapter, can't make any promises for when it'll be out.

* * *

As soon as Wolf entered the lunchroom, he cursed, seeing Fox and Marth sitting beside each other, alone at a table, chatting about something. He got to the table as quickly as he could without running, so as to not draw attention to himself. When he sat down, both of them looked up at him.

"You in a hurry or something?" Fox said, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, uhh..." He sent a pleading look at Marth, who responded with a shrug, then let out a mental sigh of relief. "Not really. How was the match?"

"Ike won, of course," Marth said between mouthfuls of... something gross-looking. "I don't think anyone can stand up to him."

Fox snorted. "Including yourself?"

Marth nodded, but Wolf knew it was probably fake. The prince's eyes darted to Wolf before he grasped his tray, standing. "I'm gonna go ahead back to the room, I need to put away this gear." Holding his tray in one hand, he gestured at his sword and armor, then began walking towards the trash bins. Wolf couldn't shake the feeling that the only reason Marth had left was to give him time alone with Fox.

As soon as Marth was out of earshot, Wolf said, "Let me guess, Marth won his fight too, huh?" Despite himself, he couldn't keep the spite out of his voice.

"Of course. He fought.... R.O.B. I feel kinda sorry for him."

Wolf brought up his drink and took a sip from it. "Mmhm." He set it down with a sharp clang, staring off in space. He knew he had ask Fox sometime soon, but that didn't make it any easier. He figured he'd just wait until the time was right.

"Enjoy sleeping late?"

A little bit surprised by the question, Wolf hesitated before answering. "Yeah, I guess." He reached down to take another sip, even though he wasn't very thirsty. His eyes kept straying back over to Fox whenever he let his guard down, and that caused his thoughts to stray to his conversation with Marth last night.

He pretty much had to do it. If he didn't, he was sure he'd get a lecture, then he'd end up somehow making himself promise to do it later, which he would break and get another lecture. Repeat ad infinitum

Figuring that now was as good a time as ever and that it'd be best just to get it behind him, he cleared his throat. "So, uh, Fox."

Fox, occupied with chewing something, didn't respond, but gave him an expectant look.

"You want to..." He fumbled over the words for a few seconds, looking up at Fox's expression as if trying to get permission, then looking away, before deciding that being subtle wasn't worth the trouble. "Dinner tonight?"

Fox blinked, looking surprised but not put off. "What's the occasion?"

Thinking fast, Wolf said, "That we're all still here." He started to add that it wasn't just another attempt to get a free meal, but decided against it.

To his relief, Fox reached down with his spork again to pick up another scoop of that gross stuff, saying, "Sounds good. I've been looking for an excuse to go to the dining room again. Falco can't stand it."

"Huh? Why's that?"

"Well..." Fox brought up a hand to scratch at his chin. "It smells like fish."

Wolf snorted, feeling relief wash over him like a gust of mountain wind. "You'd think that he of all people would like that. Isn't he supposed to be a bird of prey … or something?"

Fox shrugged. "He hates fish with a passion. Makes him sick. I don't even notice it when I go in, but hey." He pointed at his nose. "If he says it, it must be true."

Letting out a bark of laughter, Wolf felt a little silly for making such a big deal of the question before. It was as if Fox didn't even notice what he was implying—that, or he just didn't care.

Oh, well, he decided. He had done what he'd said he'd do. Now it was time to get away before he screwed things up. "Okay then. Well..." He crossed his arms. "Six okay with you again?"

"That's fine. See ya then."

With a nod, Wolf got up and began walking towards the exit. He had the feeling he was forgetting something, and as soon as he got into the elevator, he remembered.

He hadn't eaten. Oh, well. He hated breakfast anyway.

* * *

Wolf toyed with his communicator, browsing through the menus, backing out everyone once in a while to check the time. He tapped his fingers against the thing, fidgeting a little. It was the first time he had been early for something for... ever? He kept getting the feeling that Fox was going to forget, despite that it was only 5:54.

One of the staff popped out from the door, which released a hiss and a loud string of conversation from within as he swung it shut. Must have been the maitre d'... which they had bypassed the first time, somehow. "Can I help you?"

Wolf took another look around. The room was fairly open, and reminded him a bit of the antechamber, but instead of opening to the arena, it opened to the restaurant. There were only a few people lounging around, all far away from the door inside. None of them were Fox.

Wolf grunted. "I'm waiting for someone. Should be here soon."

"I can set up a table for you. How many?"

Wolf held up two fingers.

"Style?"

"Huh?"

"Casual? Formal? Romantic?"

Wolf almost choked on his tongue. "Casual. Get something quiet."

"Can I get the name of the other party?"

Wolf nodded. "Fox. McCloud, that is."

The maitre d' gestured toward the door with his hands. "If you'll just follow me, I'll be on the lookout and tell Fox where to go when he gets here."

Wolf grunted again, following the man as he entered the noisy restaurant and maneuvered around tables, moving with the fluidity of one who'd spent most of his life on the practice. The man stopped at a table in the far right corner, opposite the entrance, holding out a chair for Wolf, who hesitated before accepting it.

Sitting there, Wolf felt like an idiot. He alternated between shuffling his feet, tapping his claws against the varnished table, and glancing at his communicator for the time. The noise was coming from a party of ten or so sitting on the other side of the room that wouldn't shut up, and Wolf wasn't doing a very good job at ignoring them. He sent them a few glares, but they didn't notice. He'd asked for something quiet; he'd gotten all the ruckus of a mosh pit.

Wolf was just looking up from his communicator

_(5:59)_

when he saw the maitre d' leading Fox in. Wolf crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair, eyes trailing the vulpine.

"Here you are, sir." The man held out the chair and gestured towards Fox.

"Thanks." Fox was in his seat a second later, scooting it up. He was the same style of casual dress as always, not that Wolf had expected any different. Or maybe he had? He couldn't decide, and now he was beginning to think that he was crazy.

"The waiter will be with you shortly."

Fox nodded, and the maitre d' was gone, replaced by a waiter—a different one, Wolf noticed. Fox ordered the same thing as last time, and Wolf decided just to go with it. Fox seemed to be one of those boring people who ordered the same thing anywhere, and he was perfectly alright with that.

_What is your deal?_

_Knock it off, you._

After a few scribbles on the pad, the waiter collected the menus. "We'll have it right out. I'll be right back with the drinks."

Wolf tapped his clawtips against the table and sent nasty glares over at the noisy group, trying to keep his focus away from the fox sitting in front of him. And then he realized that he was defeating the purpose of this (date) meal in the first place. He certainly wasn't going to make any progress if he kept cowering behind the table like a little girl. And it would help if he knew what that progress was supposed to be.

Why did this have to be so hard?

When the waiter came with the drinks, he took a long dreg from the glass. Among the ruckus from the big table, he picked out Fox's "thanks," then footsteps as the waiter left. Wolf's glass clinked down a few seconds later, and he brought up a hand to wipe at his mouth.

"You know, when you think of fine dining, you usually think of quiet," Fox said, his eyes straying to that party of ten.

"Yeah..."

Fox shifted his weight in the chair. "So, who are you fighting next?"

Wolf felt his ears flick. It took a while for the question to register. "Oh, uh... that Samus chick."

"When?"

"Day after next, I think."

Fox grunted, taking a sip out of his glass. "She's nothing ya haven't seen before. Crafty, annoying, but not really that amazing. Snake was worse"

"What can she do?"

Leaning forward in his chair, Fox launched into details about the bounty hunter's weaponry, her tactics, and her style,Wolf making acknowledgements whenever necessary. Up until this point, he hadn't considered that Fox would be willing to take care of all the conversation, but he didn't mind it at all. In fact, he enjoyed hearing the vulpine talk. When Fox was done preaching about Samus, Wolf started feeling a bit brave.

"So, what about those people over there?" Wolf pointed at the large table.

"Oh, them. They're all from pretty much the same area. Know any of them?"

Wolf's eyes scanned the crowd, acutely aware of the vulpine eyes scanning him. "That one," he said, pointing at the woman in the pink dress.

"Peach," Fox said. He started pointing at various people at the table and explaining who they were, some of which Wolf recognized: the accented man that Wolf had ran into earlier, a similar man with different clothing, some... ridiculous-looking ape thing, and so on.

"That's Donkey Kong," Fox would say, pointing at the ape. "He eats so many bananas that they grow out his brains."

As he looked at the top of Donkey Kong's head, Wolf laughed, finding that he could almost believe that. "That's great."

Fox made similar comments for most of the people, sometimes making Wolf snicker, sometimes making him burst out with laughter. Throughout the whole ordeal, Wolf found himself becoming more and more relaxed. He said things that he wouldn't have had anyone else been sitting in front of him; just popped out whatever came to mind regardless of how it sounded.

Despite that, Wolf was always watching for Fox to do something that would take things up a notch. It wasn't something that he was actively doing, more just something he noticed he had been doing automatically.

That something never came. Fox was only done with three-quarters of the people at the table when the waiter arrived, handing them their meals.

_See, Fox isn't gay. Stop fantasizing._

Growling mentally, Wolf tried to shut the voice up. Maybe Fox was waiting for him to make a move, as stupid and clichè as that sounded. Just thinking about taking the initiative made his ears waver.

But as Wolf started to eat, he noted again that the voice only nagged him when Fox wasn't speaking, and that he only had doubts about what he should do when Fox wasn't there, and he only felt awkward when he and Fox weren't in the middle of a conversation. Maybe if he would just shut up and _do_ it, whatever it was, it wouldn't be too bad.

In just a few minutes, his plate was empty, and a quick glance over the table told him that Fox's was too. The green eyes were fixed on him, and Wolf found himself looking back, forcing himself to hold his eyes there as long as he could, which only amounted to a few seconds.

He knew it was impossible to get anything done with all the noise in the room. He would say it had been a complete waste if he hadn't enjoyed it so much, which, he reasoned, may have been the point to start with. Just more confirmation. Everything in the mansion was too public, too open and privy to the eyes of others. But he shouldn't be worrying about that now, he reasoned.

Wolf tried to think of something to say, but Fox beat him to it. "What now?"

It took a few seconds for him to process the question, but its implications came crashing down on him. He was shaking, he realized. He started to say "I don't know," but something made him say, "Wanna go for a walk?"

Fox's ears swiveled towards Wolf, then snapped back into place. When he spoke next, his voice was quiet and somber. "I'd like that." He blinked, then sniffed. "I mean, sure."

After tipping and paying, Fox was leading him through the hallway. Fox wordlessly descended down the stairs until he reached the first floor, Wolf following and fidgeting behind him. His heart rate was higher than he'd ever remembered it being—which he found a bit ludicrous, since he'd been in several situations before where he was sure Fox was going to kill him and none of them had elicited this response.

Fox held a door open for him. He stepped through, pausing a bit to take in the scenery.

It looked as if someone had taken a snapshot of Corneria Park, cut and pasted the shrubs into different locations, and turned it into reality. Hedges enclosed the perimeter, which he estimated was at least as big as the main room. Flower beds and neatly-trimmed trees dotted the area, spaced evenly about the fountain in the center. He was in the courtyard, he realized, and dusk was creeping in, casting a shadow over the place. Fox wouldn't take him here unless he had something in mind, Wolf realized, swallowing. "Nice place," he said, trying to push away those thoughts away.

"Yeah. Reminds me of home, with all the rhododendrons." Fox approached one of the shrubs and gestured to a blooming purple flower, situated in one of the bushes that dotted the perimeter.

Wolf laughed, thinking that a week earlier, he never would have imagined Fox doing that. "You're into flowers?"

Fox shrugged, his tail jerking once, then beginning to wag. "Slippy was. When you have an overenthusiastic toad squealing about everything, you get to know them, you know?"

"Yeah..." Wolf hadn't really been aware that they were moving, but they were now in front of the fountain. It was multi-tiered, with a spout at the top spraying a shell of water into the bottom level, and the rest leaking out and trickling down through the different tiers, sparkling in the twilight. It looked... out of place, almost like an anachronism.

Of course. Anything to take his mind off of where he was, who he was with, what he was convinced was going to happen. But Fox didn't move, just stood there beside him, eyes staring at who knew what.

The noise of the spout's water sluicing into the lowest tier of the fountain overrode everything else. He could pick out little patterns in the motion of the water, could discern the little chute where he knew the pump had to be.

_No, dammit, stop distracting yourself!_

_("You don't have to be obvious.")_

Gritting his teeth and turning his head the other way, Wolf slowly moved his arm up and put it around Fox's back.

_That wasn't too hard, was it?_

He tried to keep his body motionless, but he could feel the trembling of his arms, feel the pounding of his heart, and smell the stink of his fear—and he knew that Fox would have to be senseless to miss any of them.

There was no response from Fox.

He felt his arm loosening its grip a little, threatening to fall limp at his side again. Clearly, no response meant a lack of interest. Maybe he should stop before he embarrassed himself.

It was nothing but a brush at first, about as gentle as a feather duster on his back. Then, it tightened, and he realized—oh, crap, that's Fox's arm. Wolf's grip around the other redoubled, and before he could gather his thoughts, he found himself embracing the vulpine.

He didn't know how long they stayed like that. It was all just a blur: a hazy bubble in time that he couldn't put a quantitative name to. He was vaguely aware that his heart had slowed a bit, that his clawtips were dragging through Fox's head fur, that Fox's scent was dizzyingly strong and unmistakably male. He felt that if someone clubbed him in the skull, he'd barely feel it.

But Fox loosened his grip, backing up a bit, and Wolf did the same, his arms still around the other but his body back far enough that he could get a good look. The bubble dissolved, and he became Wolf O'Donnell again, back in Brawler's Haven.

He was staring again, staring at the other's muzzle, the strip of fur that ran down the center of his forehead, the perfect teeth that Fox's smile displayed. Wolf could almost see his reflection in Fox's eyes, and for a minute, he was glad that he couldn't because he was afraid of how silly he would look. If he could just...

He did it before he could let logic interfere. Closing the distance between him and Fox, Wolf pressed his muzzle to the other's.

Another initial lack of response, then Fox began to reciprocate.

It was like the embrace all over again, another hazy bubble, but this one was more distance, more intense, and—

Fox broke away, pushing himself out of Wolf's arms and turning so that he was facing the fountain again, the side of his head dominating Wolf's view.

"Uhh..." Wolf struggled to recover his senses, not quite able to take in what had just happened yet. "I... sorry. I don't know what..." He felt like a babbling idiot.

"No." Fox's voice was quiet, his eyes unblinking. "_I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have taken you here... shouldn't have..." He winced, and Wolf got a brief flash of green before Fox turned his back to him. The words sounded pained. "I've been such an idiot."

He was walking away. Fox was walking away.

Wolf tried to follow, but his body wouldn't respond. Everything seemed distant, like he was in someone else's nightmare, the twilight casting a sinister shadow across the courtyard. "Fox..."

"I'll..." Fox pivoted, another piercing _(muddled?)_ flash of green, before resuming his walk away from the fountain. "I'll talk to you later, okay? I've got some stuff to take care of."

Before Wolf could remember how to work his mouth, the vulpine had vanished from sight in the now-growing darkness. Footsteps, the sound of a door swinging shut, _silence—s_ilence so loud that it threatened to deafen him, so black that it was almost tangible.

Wolf clenched his fists, uncaring about the claws that punctured skin. "Dammit!" He punched the fountain, then fell to his knees, grasping his hand, staring at it to see if he'd drawn blood, but finding that his sight was too blurry to make anything out. Somewhere deep inside of him, there was the voice of reason, of logic, of pragmatism, and it was screaming:

_I told you so._

(But almost mute underneath it, there was that voice of hope and carnal desire that wouldn't ignore the muddled look in Fox's eyes, the way the vulpine turned away to hide himself, how he had left with no explanation. It was trying to tell him something:

He had been crying.)

* * *

The door was cold to the touch. He noticed Marth, noticed the book again, but everything had this ethereal, ghostly tinge.

"Wolf?"

The lupine stumbled into the room, coming down hard on his bed, not bothering with the sheets. He pressed his muzzle into the pillow.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"Shut up."

Silence. Wolf desperately wanted to wake up. He'd wake in his old bed, get up and eat whatever Panther had cooked for breakfast, bitch to Leon about this or that mission that had chosen Star Fox over them. But that wasn't going to happen—this was real, and Star Wolf was gone. He wanted to retreat back into the bubble, to slip from consciousness, but nothing came. Oh, gods, it was like That Day all over again.

"Things with Fox not work out?"

"I—I told you to shut up!" He had tried to snap the words out, but what he heard was a pitiful mixture of whining and sobbing. He was hating himself more and more with every second.

Nothing more came from Marth, or, if anything did, Wolf was too lost to notice.

He wanted to scream, wanted to hurt somebody. He wanted to hurt _Fox_. Hell, he wished that the vulpine hadn't even been here. Just when he thought he couldn't get any worse, that stupid fox had to appear, give his heart a sliver of hope, and use it tear the whole thing out.

He squeezed the pillow until it hurt, and that was the last thing he remembered.


	6. Chapter 6: It

* * *

thunder n litenin

vary vary fritenin

(unknown)

* * *

Consciousness tore into him. Usually, he would wake slowly and linger in a dream-like state for a while, grab a cup of coffee, and still be groggy; but as soon as consciousness crept up on him, it reminded him of what had happened, and its effects were stronger than all the espresso in Lylat.

Morning meant breakfast. Breakfast meant Fox would be there. Translation: Wolf would not be at breakfast.

What did he usually do in the morning? Oh, right. Shower.

He entered the bathroom, stripped, and got distracted by the mirror on his way to the shower. Maybe, under different circumstances, he would've laughed at himself, what with his fur sticking up all over the place. Maybe.

He went through the motions in the shower, trying not to think about last night. He used to love to shower, up until he became a member of Star Wolf and had to share the shower with Pigma, then Panther. There always seemed to be an overwhelmingly-strong stench of male musk back on the mothership showers, which Andrew had always called _the Stank_. Wolf never thought he would miss _the Stank_, but its absence reminded him more and more that he was far away from home, far away from the people he knew and loved.

He had been trying to distract himself, but now he leaned against the shower wall, trying to convince himself that the moisture in his eyes came from the shower. He brought his hand over to the knob and shut the water off, just leaning against the wall.

Convincing himself that standing here wasn't doing any good, he stepped out of the shower and dried himself off as best he could with the laughable towels that the Haven provided. He would brush later; he slipped on a pair of boxers, dug until he found something suitable to wear, and stumbled to the bed, clutching the covers to him for warmth. More than likely, he'd look like a world-champion hobo when he got up, but that didn't seem to matter very much.

He lay there for what felt like an eternity. Every minute that dragged by felt like an hour, as he was constantly trying to shove last night out of his memories, but then he'd let his guard down and it'd sneak up on him, and he'd have to redouble his efforts. He gave up on sleep after the first thirty hours, stared at the ceiling. The ceiling had no answers, gave him no comfort.

There was a click at the door. Wolf got his eyes over there just in time to see the door swing open and let Marth in.

"Hey," Marth said, removing the sword from his belt, walking over to the bed and laying the weapon down beside it.

Wolf stared at the ceiling again, trying to pretend that Marth wasn't there, which might have been impossible if not for the stench. The prince always put on some kind of ridiculous flowery scent when he got done training, which Wolf found about as pleasant as a lady wearing wrestler sweat.

"What happened last night?"

The ceiling was mocking him, daring him to look away, daring him to acknowledge that Marth was in the room, but Wolf was better than that. He wouldn't let the ceiling beat him.

"I talked to Fox. When I asked him about what happened last night, he—"

Wolf growled, resisting the urge to let out a full-blown snarl. "_You talked to him?_"

Marth nodded, looking unsure, fidgeting a little with his cape. "I figured it would be the easiest way. I just asked what happened, that you had been dispirited when you returned last night, and—"

"Can't you mind your own business for once in your life?" He didn't try to hide his anger now, let it all came spilling out. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Marth remained silent, his eyes gravitating downwards, his expression distant.

"You've ruined me. If I hadn't done that last night, I..." He paused, pressing his claws into the fabric of his pants. "I'm leaving."

He didn't give Marth any time to respond to that. He bolted out of the room, shut the door behind him, leaned against it—

And sank to his knees.

* * *

He was in the courtyard again. It was even more beautiful in the early morning than at twilight, but the beauty had a twisted, sinister edge hidden underneath it, as if it were a garden of lotuses. He hadn't wanted to come here, but he didn't really have any other options. He made up for it by ripping out little clumps of grass with his claws, throwing them into the air, and watching as the remains scattered.

Those clumps of grass were him, he realized. He was falling apart. Just like before—with Andross, with Krystal, now with Fox—he had been given the fleeting experience of hope, just enough to make him break free of his pessimism; and it only drove him to his ruin, deeper in than he had been before. But he could only be driven down so much before he was crushed under the pressure, and he reasoned that he had finally reached that point.

He was so afraid—the type of genuine _fear_ that he had never felt, never been able to feel while in the Wolfen. He didn't want to be driven in any farther. He couldn't take it.

The peak of his life was over, the only thing he had ever been good at eradicated. Maybe it would be best just to end it. Just let it all slip away, not have to worry about it anymore...

"You look pretty blue."

Wolf slowly turned his head over his shoulder, for some reason not surprised to see Peach standing over him. "You could say that."

There was a rustle of movement, and Peach was sitting on the grass next to him, her dress radiating out from her figure. "What went wrong last night?"

"Why would you think something went wrong?" He was surprised at how calm he was, in contrast to how he had acted with Marth.

"I saw you with Fox in the diner last night." She paused, a gust of wind making her straw-colored hair ripple around her head. "Fox was late to breakfast this morning, came in a while after Falco had left. And I see you moping out here by yourself, so I figure I might as well ask..."

Wolf grunted. "You know, lady, you sure to pay attention to a lot of strange stuff."

Peach laughed. "I'm a woman. I notice these things." She said it as if it were inarguable, a fact of life. Wolf rested both hands on the grass beside him, spread out his legs so that he was more relaxed.

"I did something really stupid," he said. "I..." He sent another glance over at Peach, then shuffled his weight, trying to keep his eyes from falling down to the grass again.

She leaned in a bit closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Wolf, you can tell me. If you're having problems, I'll help you as best I can. If not... well, I won't tell anyone."

And he knew that she was right, that she was telling the truth. He knew that he was speaking to someone who was sincere, to someone who was objective about his whole situation, to someone who wouldn't hold anything he said against him. Fox had told him that much at dinner last night.

"I... well, me and Fox..." He sent an apologetic look over at her before continuing. "After dinner, we came here. I took the initiative, and we ended up kinda..." He brought a shaky hand up to his muzzle, and ran a finger over his lip.

Peach blinked twice, but Wolf couldn't read her expression. "I see..."

"But he... he broke away, and said he was sorry, that he shouldn't have brought me there, that he was a really big idiot. And he left."

Peach's expression seemed to waver. "Did you mean to do it?"

Wolf nodded.

"Did you want to do it?"

Another nod. "I was the one who did it, not him. I wasn't thinking..." He was clutching the grass again. "But I was hoping he'd give in. And he did at first, but then..." He sighed.

"Did you think it would be easy?"

"What?"

She shook her head. "Wolf, you can't expect everything to be perfect when you're doing something like this. You'll have bad days, you'll have rough starts, you'll have fights. But those things are there for a reason." Her eyes twinkled as she held up a hand, gesturing to the sky. "They're there to test you, to see how much you really want it. Every time the relationship lives through one of those conflicts, it gets stronger."

She licked her lips. "Do you think Mario and I had it easy?"

"I don't know," he said.

"I'm a princess." She put a hand to her breast, pointing at herself. "He's a poor foreigner, a plumber. It wasn't easy getting people to accept our relationship, but I wouldn't give it up for the world."

"So what does that mean I need to do?" Wolf whined.

"You can answer that question better than I can."

"Well..." He let his grip on the grass relax, delving deep inside himself. "I don't know what he thinks. I don't know what I think." He paused, blinking. "If I keep doing what I am now," he said, "I'll never see him again. If I talked to him... I don't know, I guess I could talk to him."

"That you could," she said. "It's not like it could hurt."

Wolf sat there for a while, playing with the grass with his claws, running scenarios through his head, each one seeming more ridiculous than the last. It was too soon, he decided. He needed more time. It wasn't long until he began to see people walking by, so he sent an inquisitive glance over at Peach.

She stood up, reaching down to knock the bits of grass off her dress. "It's lunch time," she explained. "You coming?"

He hadn't eaten since last night, but thinking about food made him feel sick. "I'm staying here."

"Why don't you go back up to your room, at least?"

"I'm not going back up there."

"Did you and Marth have a fight, too?" When he didn't respond, she sent a glance over at the exit that Wolf knew led into the hall with the Cafeteria. "Well, I'm going to go."

She had barely started walking when Wolf said, "Peach?"

"Hrm?"

"Thanks."

She smiled. "No problem." She began walking towards the exit into the cafeteria hall, a spring in her step.

* * *

He spent the rest of the day in the courtyard. He went to the training room once, but was unable to get anything accomplished, and had to slip out once he saw Marth coming in. Peach had come by after lunch for a few minutes, but not much came out of that conversation.

When dinner time came around, he wasn't feeling any hungrier than he had been before. He roamed the halls for a little while, but the only thing he found to distract him was a door marked Staff only, so he found himself eventually coming back to the courtyard again. Sighing, he went back to his corner and crouched. Several people passed by, but they paid him no heed.

The rhododendrons seemed to be mocking him.

It was getting late, he realized. _6:32_ and counting. He hadn't thought about where he was going to sleep, but now that he thought about it, he didn't have any options but here. He curled up into a pathetic ball and lay down on the grass, trying to block out his thoughts.

The next thing he was aware of was wetness. He sat up, realizing that he must have fallen asleep, then retreated farther back into the corner, crouching under a tree to try to keep out from the rain.

_Might as well start sucking your thumb_, he thought.

Lightning flashed, then a low rumble of thunder. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't stay out here. Couldn't go back to the room. Couldn't go to anyone else's room. There was nothing left for him anywhere.

He leaned back against the tree. Lightning flashed several times, and once, he thought he could detect a hint of movement, but he later dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. Nobody would be out here this late, especially with the rain. He was getting soaked even with the shelter.

"Wolf?"

Wolf's eyes snapped open, and he rubbed at them once. He couldn't see in the dark, but he knew who it was from the voice.

"Is that you?" A moment of silence. "My God, what are you doing out here?"

"Just had to get away," Wolf muttered. "Why are you up so late, out in the rain?"

A bright flash of lightning illuminated the area, revealing Fox standing in front of him, his fur dripping with moisture. "The storm woke me," he said.

Wolf snorted. "That's a lie."

"I couldn't sleep." Another crash of thunder, and the rain intensified. "Wolf, let's go. There's no sense in us being out here."

"Go where?" Wolf asked.

"At least go up to your room."

"I can't go back," he said.

"What?"

Wolf wished he could see Fox, or at least smell him so he could have some idea of what he was thinking. "I can't," he said, clenching his fists. "I don't want to deal with Marth. I just wanted to be alone."

There was a sound of movement, then the gentle feeling of something wet on his shoulder. "I did too, but.... come on. Let's go inside. This isn't doing us any good."

Hesitating first, Wolf nodded, then realized that Fox wouldn't be able to see him. "...yeah. Okay." Feeling a bit numb and not entirely sure about what was going on, he eased himself to his feet, feeling the immediate increase in the amount of rain pelting against his fur. A flash of lightning lit up the area, and he could see that Fox was staring at him.

Moments later, he was out of the rain, inside the hall that led to the cafeteria. They were both dripping all over the floor, but Fox didn't acknowledge it and Wolf didn't care. The lights were dimmer than they were in the day, but still bright enough to see by.

"Have you been out there all day?" Fox asked, leading Wolf... somewhere.

Wolf felt his ears wilt a little. "No. Well... not _all_ day."

"Jeez." Fox sighed, looking guilty, standing still and facing Wolf. "Sorry."

"Why did you do it?" The words were out before Wolf even knew he'd considered saying them.

"Well..."

"Is it because of Falco?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you and him... you know..." He made an obscene gesture with his hands. "Close?"

Fox took a step back, eyes widening. "No! We're not like that at all. He's a friend, okay? And he's not like that. Neither am I."

Wolf faced away from Fox, hunching over a little. "I didn't think I was, either." He started walking away, not even sure where he was going.

"No, dammit!" More than anything, Fox's words seemed directed at himself. "Wolf, wait. I didn't mean it like that." There was another gentle wetness on the lupine's shoulder, and he turned around to see Fox looking at him, that same muddled look from before in his eyes. "It's just," Fox said, "this is hard for me."

"You think it's any easier for me?" Wolf could hear his voice shaking. He wanted to say it, to say what he knew was going on it both of their heads, but he held his tongue.

Fox frowned. "I don't know." His ears flicked, then cocked forward. "What was that?"

"_What do you mean what was_—" And then he heard it. It was faint, yet at the same time so loud, reminding him again of how Tabuu had commanded such a powerful presence with such little flair. Looking around...

Wolf knew this place. He'd been here before, but he couldn't quite place it. It was only when his eyes caught the** Staff only** door that he realized where he was—and then, with the the way the lights were dimmed, he remembered that he'd been here before then. He remembered the red, the feeling of pure fear, and it all came rushing back to him again.

"Run," he said. He jogged towards the stairs, opening the door and holding it open before Fox.

The vulpine was there in a few seconds, giving Wolf a strange look. "What's going on?"

"Just come on!"

As soon as Fox was in the staircase, Wolf began climbing upwards. He only made it up one flight before throwing the door there open, rushing out into the hall, checking to see if Fox was behind him every few seconds. After a few minutes of running, he had made his way to the training rooms—but nobody was there. He felt his hackles stand up and his skin prickle with fear.

Fox's footsteps behind him became louder before stopping, and Wolf was aware of the vulpine's breath on his shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Wolf wasn't sure. He hadn't heard anything in a while, but, just to be safe, he started padding towards one of the training rooms. "Follow me." When he got there, he held the door open before slipping in, locking the door, shaking off his fur, and sitting down, breathless. He could feel Fox's eyes on him.

"What was _that_?"

"There was something following us... I think it wants to kill me."

"I know that. I saw something. But... who was it?"

"I don't know... Snake, probably, maybe wanting to get revenge."

Fox shook his head. "That's not possible. He was sent home."

Wolf stared at the floor for a while before sliding over to one of the corners, resting his head against the wall. After a few seconds, he felt his eyelids begin to close.

Fox hadn't moved, and had kept a steady eye on him the whole time. "What are you doing?"

Wolf's eyes snapped open. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You're going to sleep in here?" His eyes were wide.

Wolf growled. "I've already told you that I'm not going back! Now you think I'm gonna walk out there with him waiting on me? So that I can go to the courtyard again and get struck by lightning or something?"

Fox's eyes were fixed on him for a few seconds before the vulpine's hand approached the door. "Well, maybe we can talk sometime when you're done being so pissy."

Something snapped inside Wolf, and it let loose a haze of red that obscured his vision. He was up on his feet before he could think about it. Fox pressed himself up against the door, panic playing across his muzzle.

"You think I don't have the right to be pissy at you?" Wolf's hands clamped around the point where Fox's neck and shoulders met, squeezing. "Every single bad thing that has ever happened to me has been your fault."

"Wolf—please—"

Wolf snarled. "_You _are the one who condemned me to a criminal life—that almost killed me during the Lylat Wars, that brought _her_ to my team, that ruined my chance at redemption. _You—_" He wrestled Fox down to the floor, the sheer terror on the other's face only fueling him, and said between clenched teeth, "You have destroyed every reason I've ever had for living."

And deep underneath that, something he couldn't bring himself to say, something that rippled to him in the aftermath of his fury and completely dispelled it:

_Despite that, _you_ are the only one I have ever cared for._

As soon as Wolf's grip relaxed, Fox whimpered, then slid himself along the floor until he was laying in a corner. The haze subsiding, Wolf stared at his hands. Stared. Thinking that death now would be merciful—pleasant, even—so that he wouldn't have to live with what he'd done for the rest of his life.

"Fox." He didn't know what else to say. Every time he heard a whimper, or saw a fresh tear trickle out of the vulpine's eyes, he felt like choking himself. Wolf buried his face in his hands, thinking, _I'm such an idiot what have I done, why does all this have to happen to me?_

He finally managed to work up the strength to lift his head, then began crawling towards Fox. The vulpine's eyes widened and he tried to push himself farther into the corner.

"Fox, wait."

It was when he was only a few inches away from the other when Wolf broke down. The tears came flooding out, and since his voice failed him, the only thing he could think of to do was put his arms around Fox and clutch the vulpine's wet body to him as if he were a lifeline. He barely felt it when the vulpine put his arms around him.

"It's okay," Wolf said, not sure who he was talking to. "It's alright."

As soon as Wolf could muster the courage, he backed away and looked Fox in the eye, finding the green vulpine eyes staring right back at him. "I lost control," Wolf said, voice trembling. "So stupid. Such an idiot. Such a selfish idiot. I—" He took a deep breath and whispered, "—there's no way such a sweet person bear the blame for all that."

It was the first genuinely _nice_ thing he'd ever said, he realized, and from the look on Fox's face, the vulpine knew it too. Fox wrapped his arms around Wolf, and the lupine sank his muzzle into the other's soft, wet fur.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, just sobbing on the other's shoulder. Maybe Fox was doing the same thing—he wasn't sure, since his fur was soaked anyway. The cheerful ball of energy Wolf had known to light up his day was gone, and he was to blame for it.

As soon as Wolf recovered his voice, the first thing he said was, "I think it's safe for you to go back to your room now."

"No."

Wolf broke away from the embrace and looked Fox in the eyes. "You want to stay here after that? Are you suicidal?" There wasn't any anger in the words. "I thought you were leaving."

"I know what I want," Fox said. "I didn't yesterday, but now I do. And... what just happened proves that it's time we actually talked about it."

Sitting there with his arms around the other, Wolf knew for the first time exactly what _it_ was. "Okay," he said, swallowing.

"No, really." Fox reached up a hand to dab at his eyes. "I think we've both been putting this off too long, been too scared to actually say anything. And look where it's gotten us. We've blown up at our roommates and each other, now we're probably gonna get pneumonia from the rain."

Wolf felt the corners of his mouth tighten. "Then go ahead," he said. "You start."

Fox squirmed in Wolf's grip, so he let go of the vulpine. Fox sat on his own now, leaning against the wall. "I've been leading you on the whole time," he said, holding up a hand, "but I never understood where this was going until last night. And I fought it." He paused, taking a calculated glance at Wolf. "Because I didn't want to be... you know." He made an uninterpretable gesture with his hands, then continued.

"I fought it last night, and I was so snappy today that I started a fight with Falco. But I finally realized—I don't know when—that maybe fighting it wasn't the best choice of action. How about you?" His eyes met Wolf's.

Wolf shrugged. "I guess I've been too wrapped up in what _was_ to think about what _is_. But I guess what we did before doesn't matter, just what we're doing now, y'know?" He paused for a bit. "And about that other thing... well, I don't give a crap about what I am. I'm just... well, me. And I'm not very good at this kind of stuff."

"Me either."

Wolf snorted. "Oh, that's a lie."

Fox laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Why do you think Krystal left?"

"I thought you wanted her gone."

Fox shook his head. "That was a lie to make myself feel better. I figured you knew that." He slid across the floor until he was sitting as close to Wolf as he could get, their bodies touching. "I must be pretty bad if I made her resort to Panther."

"Um? It's because you're gay."

Fox blinked at him, the twitching of his face so slight that Wolf wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't staring so hard.

"You convinced yourself you were into her—because it seemed so natural—but you really weren't."

Fox recoiled. "Hey, I was—"

Wolf held up a hand. "No, don't give me that crap."

"But—"

Wolf leaned it and pressed his muzzle to Fox's, closing his eyes and drinking in the feeling. It wasn't long before Fox was kissing him back, and when it ended, Wolf realized that they were holding each other again.

Fox grinned up at him. "On second thought, maybe we don't need to talk about it all that much."

Wolf poked Fox's nose. "Maybe you're right." He smiled as Fox buried his head into the lupine's fur, watching him for a few minutes before leaning back and closing his eyes.

This was what it was all about, Wolf realized. He had been expecting some kind of consummation to come from the relationship, been put off because of who the relationship was with. But now he know that what really mattered was what was going in the present moment, and, looking down at Fox, curled up against Wolf with his eyes closed and claws gripping his fur, Wolf knew he could be content with it.

* * *

_  
End Redemption, part one._


End file.
